The years have passed very quickly brothers.
We - you and me have gray hair and others.
But we go together the same way
And of nothing we are afraid!
But often we come to the shore of the mere here,
Where you admitted to me in love some year.
That day into a low-necked sun-dress I changed
And you cut a heart with a penknife on a bench.
That time you were a very stupid boy
And you read me Pushkin books with a great joy.
And you and me - we met the passion under the willow,
From that passion we had not been being able to disappear.
And since then It sometimes pricks
And from memories the head splits! !
Written in Russian by Sad Nastya
(translated into English by me)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem