23/04/2022
I am writing to you — what is more?
What else can I say?
Now, I know, in your will
To punish me with contempt.
But you, to my unfortunate lot
Keeping at least a drop of pity,
You won't leave me.
At first I wanted to be silent;
Believe me: my shame
You would never know,
When would I have had hope
At least rarely, at least once a week
In our village to see you,
Just to hear your speeches,
Say a word to you, and then
All thinking, thinking about one thing
And day and night until we meet again.
But, they say, you are unsociable;
In the wilderness, in the country, everything is boring for you,
And we... we don't shine
with anything even though we are innocently glad to see you.