She was both my bliss and my pain, And she filled every cell of my brain. In my dreams she would blaze with a gloss As an Amazon, riding a horse! What could all books and their wisdom mean As I would wish to kiss her traces on the ground... What have you lived through, my unearthly, magic queen? What are you now and to where are you bound? Our souls were bathing in spring, With Champagne our heads used to spin; When with her I would not fret or grieve, In misfortune Iíd never believe! But now she looks as if she feels her end, I see no reason why, this makes me laugh through tears! Her last departure, she is certain, does impend, Her blood is cold and to live she simply fears. Iíve discovered - no songs left to sing! Iíve discovered - no dreams left to see! Bluff and falseness - thatís her entourage, And she is but a pretty mirage! I burn the past and presents that she gave, I tear costumes of a festive misconception! Iíll no longer be a ghostly hopes slave, Iíll no longer pray to idols of deception!
© George Tokarev. Translation, 2003
Edited by Robert Titterton