I feel my heart grieves over you. It's knock becomes more often in impulses of agony. And it's images and recollections Only about the lost love
I haven't found consolation And the first spring without you Is not so beautiful so pleasant as before; It's flowers are not that were before
Sweet wine seemed bitter poison And then, in general, for what is it necessary, When my grief is lying inside me And there is no sense at all,
I feel my body beats convulsively And kills me with a flame of suffering My eyes are filled with burning tears. I feel I die. Because There is no you more.