I do love you, but not for looks of beauty.
You don't shine with womanly appearance traits.
I love performance of your storyteller duty,
With such entrancing art, that deeply penetrates.
In poetry you are both Messalina and Solveig, both nymphomaniac and nun,
You can be angel of the kind caress, or bully, thought provoking hooligan.
Sometimes you are a child, another times - soothsayer, your pride is mixed with gust of true remorse,
Sometimes you are black stork and witch, sometimes you are the evil's victim innocent white rose.
If you deny me of devotion to your art three times,
And with anathema my feelings cruelly betray,
I don't want to live to sobering sad day
When i forget the poisoned spoil of your enchanting rhymes.
