My honey August,
Thrown to thy feet,
Alas! You don't deserve
My condescension...
D'you want to cry?
I'll give you all to feed -
Some milk, and cream, and sugar,
And refreshments...
You thought that all these problems
Aren't for me,
And not for you...
But whose are all these problems?
My honey August,
You love only me,
And I love you...
And there's no progress.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem