Snow shines like silver in the moon light...
- The charm of the old  song...
Night woke in the heart the memory-longing,
Remembrance of the one that I loved.

The sad voice of ringing bells
Gives quiet pain in my heart,
Bringing sweet dreams of the past.
The meetings with the beloved are coming back alive...

Feelings awakening, love timid confessions,
The oath of fidelity, tenderness of dates.
Youth, in its dreams, promised happiness,
But the fate has decreed otherwise.

I was thirteen and I had got a date one day,
My very first... and I was so excited...
I went ahead and flowers bought bouquet,
- Twelve scarlet roses - hoping heart of hers to get ignited.

I was stood up - she did not make the date...
I felt ashamed, embarrassed and betrayed !
Those flowers burned my hands and made me be suspect,
They yelled that I am total failure and reject.

I threw away this evidence of shame.
To glowing roses I assigned the blame.
In instance came relief, despair went away.
I still remember vividly that day,

Experienced by me half century ago.
But recently this story came again to me to grow...
While walking down the street I noticed the bouquet - exactly that,
Or very similar - I couldn't tell you more,
Which lay abandoned on the top of parapet,
- It was another failure of distraught amour !

Gone are the suffering and agony of love.
The separation stretched out hands over me.
And I live in its shadow.
And songs dead sounds,
Froze in a silent scream.
And on my ****** face,
As the unrevealed clues,
Long ago dried up tears.
Frost buried dreams of happiness
In the snow of eternal emptiness.
Thunderstorm, raged in the heart, got lulled.
That is how I live, if you wish to know.

Black colors of the night, the ones in poetry you paint,
Mean more to me than shiny light of brightest days.
Your wicked feelings radiate the charm of spell.
With you i'll go through the circles of the hell.

My life - you are my golden fish,
I can not ask you to fulfill my wish.
From myself I swim away in a poetic verse,
But always wake up in the net again at coast.

From love no one can run away; being lost by you, it's for another to be found.
Those days of love will not repeat, alas it's memories cannot be ever drowned.

ou that ...
I doubt it will make You feel as you expect - quite glad.
Let You consider me as being insensitive and bad,
As much as I forgave, I never shall forget !


You asked to stick around - sure Dear, I indeed may stay,
But hardly You will find that this will make your day.
Let You consider me being cold and causing pain,
There is nothing You could do to make me love again.


The feeling's gone and can not be revived by will.
Love resurrection is impossible, so simply let's be real.
Betrayal is the wound, which no witch could heal.
When Love is crucified it stays forever killed.