The love is no kind, will force you to love  a bad by Konstantin Simonov

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…