Life allured Desire with words, laces delicate,
Painted pictures of thoughts, days and human true destinies…
Pure Soul, sick and tired of Senses and Etiquette,
Like a vegetable fried, was squirming in agonies:
Grieving Soul was and writhing akin to a caught up bird,
Badly wanted to meet Bliss, nerve-racking awaited for,
Broke locks and walked out and strayed in a foreign world,
Raised bridges at nights when it suffered a tender sore…
Still for Happiness looks Soul; it dreams, hopes, waits,
Strolls and flies, tries to find it – and never will quit!
Soul is firm to go on - while the Globe rotates,
And there is no doubt that it will succeed!
(Переводчик В.В. Чистяков)