Don't call me. Even without this
I'll go to the temple.
And bend before you silently my knees,
My head obediently.
And I shall heed your orders to
And timorously wait.
And catch by chance your rendezvous,
Then wish again.
Been crashed by force of passions over,
Weak under yoke press.
Sometimes - a servant, other time - a lover.
Forever - I'm a slave.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem