I was probably the most stubborn,
I didn\'t listen to bad calum any,
And I didn\'t count on fingers my own,
Who called you: the \"thyou\" informaly.
I was probably honest than others,
Younger, perhaps, at all;
I didn\'t forgive or judge your errors,
I did not 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.
Not because I’m only here yet,
And there is no better guy,
Not because you are timid,
And that is how it 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,
So born of grief purity.
Not with the purity of closed eyes,
The ignorance of young children,
But with the purity of women\'s caresses,
The insomnia of nights outward men.
Even if you’re a misfortune in my fate,
But no matter, who judges us,
I have sentenced myself yet
To you for life no pardon at once…