I was probably t’most stubborn,
I didn\'t listen to bad calumny.
And I didn\'t count on fingers my own
Who called you: the \"you\" informaly.
I was probably honest than others,
Younger, perhaps, at all,
I didn\'t forgive or judge your errors,
I didn\'t call you a girl,
I didn\'t call you a guiltless pretty
Or even pick flowers once,
I didn\'t look for a girl\'s purity
In your wide open eyes.
I didn’t regret, that in young dream still
you did not wait for me years,
That you came to me not as a girl,
But as a woman experienced.
I knew: more than shameless dreams,
More honest than sly words series
The roof that shelters us for meeting ,
The direct language of passions.
If it is destined for me to keep you,
Not because you don’t know others.
Not because I am a substitute
And there is no one better, nether.
Not because I’m only here yet,
And there is no better guy
Not because you are timid,_
And that is how it got carried a such way
No, if it is destined for due
to keep you, as the same
I will still never call you
A girl without shame
And I will meet in your straight eyes
Not with a girlish, plain empty
But with a woman\'s, in passions,
Born of grief purity.
Not with the purity of closed ignorance of young children,
but with the purity of women\'s caresses,
the insomnia of nights
йEven if there is a misfortune in my fate,
But no matter who judges us,
I have sentenced myself yet
to you for life no pardon…