You do not go under my window
And do not trample the green grass;
I stopped loving you for a long time,
But do not cry, silent and calm.
I pity you with all my soul,
What have you to my beauty?
Why do not you let me rest
And why are you so bedevils?
All the same, I will not be thy,
Now I do not like anyone,
I do not like, but I pity you,
Get away from my window!
Forget, that I was thy,
Madly loved you;
Now I do not like, and regret -
Get away and do not torture yourself!
1911–1912
