The love may force some to love  a bad by Konstantin Simonov

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…