Song of the final meeting
How helplessly chilled was my chest, yet
My footsteps were nimble and light.
The glove that belonged on my left hand
I unconsciously put on my right.
It seemed that the stairs were endless,
But I knew -- there were only three!
Autumn, whispering through the maples,
Pleaded: “Die here with me!
I was blindly deceived by my dreary,
Dismal, changeable Fate.” “And I too,”
I responded, “My darling, my dear one,
And I’ll also die here with you.”
This is the song of the final meeting.
I looked up at your house, - all dark inside.
Just the bedroom candles burned with a fleeting,
Indifferent and yellowish light.