Ivan Bunin: Loneliness

The rain and the wind and the murk 
Reign over cold desert of fall, 
Here, life's interrupted till spring; 
Till the spring, gardens barren and tall. 
I'm alone in my house, it's dim 
At the easel, and drafts through the rims. 

The other day, you came to me, 
But I feel you are bored with me now. 
The somber day's over, it seemed 
You were there for me as my spouse. 
Well, so long, I will somehow strive 
To survive till the spring with no wife. 

The clouds, again, have today 
Returned, passing, patch after patch. 
Your footprints got smudged by the rain, 
And are filling with water by the porch. 
As I sink into lonesome despair 
From the vanishing late autumn's glare. 

I gasped to call after you fast: 
Please come back, you're a part of me, dear; 
To a woman, there is no past 
Once love ends, you're a stranger to her; 
I'll get drunk, I will watch burning logs, 
Would be splendid to get me a dog. 

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