You don’t love me, don’t regret me, am I not a little beautiful? Despite the face, you wander from passion, lowering my hands on my shoulders.
Young, with sensual grin, I am not gentle and not rude with you. Tell me how much did you caress? How many hands do you remember? How many lips?
I know - they went like shadows without touching your fire, you knelt many, and now you are sitting with me.
Let your eyes are half-closed and you think about someone else, because I myself do not love you very well, drowning in the far road.
Do not call this ardor fate, a quick -tempered connection is easily thought out, as I accidentally met with you, smiling, calmly disappeared.
Yes, and you will go with your road to spray the joyless days, just do not touch unwitted days, only unwilling not mani.
And when you go with another along the alley, chatting about love, maybe I will go for a walk, and we will meet you again.
Turning away the shoulders closer to the other and leaning down a little, you will tell me quietly: “Good evening!” I will answer: "Good evening, Miss."
And nothing will disturb the soul, and nothing will be trembling, who loved, he can’t love, who burned out, you won’t burn him.