I saw you three times,

But we cannot stay apart.

—After your first sentence

My heart burned through!

I feel you in this darkness,

Like the trembling of young leaves.

You—just a portrait in an album—

And I do not know who you are.

If everything—as they say—happened by chance,

You can close the album …

Oh, this marble brow! Oh, the mystery

Behind your huge forehead!

Look, I was true

Before the call to longing:

My golden mane

Did not know anyone’s hands.

My spirit—has not humbled anyone.

We—souls of various castes.

My incorruptible demon

Will not let me love you.

—“So what was it?”—This

Judgement is passed to another judge,

There are many yet no answers,

And you do not know—who I am.