He called me 'my wonderful flower'.
He called me 'my beautiful princess'.
He was both my love and my lover
Presenting me thousands of kisses.
He left his flower without light.
He left his beautiful princess.
Oh, was it a game or a fight?
I`m sick. I`m going to pieces.
But time will pass and it`ll cure
The terrible wound in my chest.
I know… I know it for sure…
And my scar will be just a zest.
I shall not be anyone`s flower.
I shall not be anyone`s princess.
I shall be light. I`ll be a power
Of good that emerged from dark ditches.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Did he tell you like this-- Dark and burning eyes, Dark as midnight skies Full of passion flame, full of lovely game I'm in love with you, I'm afraid of you. Days when I met you made me sad and blue.No, perhaps the wrong language i write.... it should be- Ochi chornyye, ochi strastnyye Ochi zhguchiye i prekrasnyye Kak lyublyu ya vas, kak boyus' ya vas Znat' uvidel vas ya v nedobryi chas Okh nedarom vy glubiny temnei Vizhu traur v vas po dushe moyei Vizhu plamya v vas ya pobednoye Sozhzheno na nyom serdtse bednoye No ne grusten ya, ne pechalen ya Uteshitel'na mne sud'ba moya Vsyo chto luchshevo v zhizni Bog dal nam V zhertvu otdal ya ognevym glazam! But i do not know why almost every love story has a tragic crescendo when one wants to be unique, so specific in poetic conundrums as yours