I do not pity, In the spring of my,
Leaking in vain dreams of love,
I do not pity, about the mysteries of nights,
Sung harp voluptuous,
I do not pity, false friends,
Wreaths peers and circular bowl -
I do not pity, traitor mladye,—
Pensive, I chuzhdayus fun.
But where are you, moments of emotion,
youthful hopes, heart of silence?
Where the former fever and tears of inspiration?
Come again, years of my spring!
