S.Marshak, Back Translation Of Translated Shakespeare, Son.138 Poem by Lyudmila Purgina

When you are swearing, that you're the perfect sample
Of the pure truth without any doubt,
I trust you, though understand your lie,
And you think, that I'm a teenager blind.

And flattered with the feeling, that I can
Look as a youngman, despite of the real truth,
I'm lying to myself in vanity,
And both we are so far from truth.

You shan't say, that you lie to me again,
And I'm also not brave to sign my age.
On the imaginary confidence we stand,
And the old age in love is thus ashamed.

I'm lying you, you lie to me, as well,
And we are pleased enough in our dwell.