My voice is weak, but my will's not the same,
I feel at least some lightness love without.
The skies are high, the mount's wind does race,
And I have chaste and pure thoughts in mind.
The sleeplesness, my former nurse, had gone
To others, I'm not languishing at ashes,
And on a tower clocks the pointer curved
Doesn't look like as an arrow deadly.
My past is losing power at my heart!
My freedom's near. I shall all forgive.
Following the view of sun ray rising
And going down the ivy wet in spring.
1912
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Another translation into bulgarian by Maria Shandurkova:
http: //www.stihi.ru/2012/06/18/2110
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem