by Michail Yurievich Lermontov
Anxiety
Deny your love... It will escape
From brightly dreams, your mind turn ill...
The pangs of love will cause your death
And raze your living will.
The beauty, whom you love, at once
Would give her hand for you perhaps,
And years after take a chance
To rend the ties of time elapsed...
And poor old will you sit
On pillow or easy chair,
And trying not again to meet
The ugly wrinkled face so near
When thoughts of previous sometimes
Will scramble feе lings of the past,
And cheeks will redden to the size
Which was in youth, forever passed...
It's better live without friend
In order not to fall in sorrow
When future leads your love to end,
And twicely break your heart tomorrow...
1830
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem