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( Голосов: 1 )
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Too Late
09.12.2014 12:19
Автор: Владимир Хорошевский

It’s no use to exactly remember
How long we were livin’ with you,
Came already the cruel December,
Dear God, give me hint what to do?

I don’t know what us has separated,
Maybe jealousy, maybe ill fate,
One strange day I had fully surrendered,
When you told me with pain: ”It’s too late!”.

Many years rushed since then, I calmed down,
Though I couldn’t keep my mind as before…
Once I met in Berlin a slim “Frau”,
She was enterin’ in the book store.

For a while I was too hesitatin’
Then immediately followed her
Just to look at the face of that madam…
She was a copy of you, in the fox fur!

Gettin’ glad I called her with a bit worry:
“Dear Anna, how are you, my doll!”
She was shocked, as I felt, sayin’: “Sorry,
I speak German, hate English at all!”

“Wer sind Sie und wie wagen, was machen?”, -
She so angrily asked me (like a sage),
But it seemed that she said it with laughter,
Which was hidden in the grimace of rage…

It is silly, but I’m still not sure
That the slim woman I met in Berlin
Weren’t you, baby, such anger and cruel…
If it’s so, I forgive you that scene!

 

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