TATITERA — Письмо любимой

You remember, You remember everything, of course, How I stood Pressed close to the wall, How you paced the room restlessly And threw something sharp Into my face.

You said: It's time we parted, That my wild life Had worn you out, That it was time for you To get down to business, And my lot — Was to keep rolling further down.

Beloved! You did not love me. You did not know that in the throng of people I was like a horse driven into a lather, Spurred on by a bold rider.

You did not know That in the solid smoke, In a life torn apart by the storm, I suffer because I cannot understand Where the fate of events is carrying us.