How many of those with whom you can go to bed,

How few of those with whom you want to wake up

And in the morning, parting smile,

And waving his hand and smile

And the whole day, worrying, waiting for news.

How many of those with whom you can simply live

Drinking coffee in the morning, to talk and argue…

Who do I go to rest on the sea,

And, as it should be - and in joy and in sorrow

To be close… but it does not love…

How few of those with whom you want to dream!

Watch as clouds of swarming in the sky

Write the word love in the first snow,

And just to think about this man…

And more happy not to know and do not wish for.

How few of those with whom you can be quiet,

Who knows at a glance, with a view of the floor,

Who does not feel sorry for, year after year to give,

And whom can you, as a reward,

Any pain, any penalty to. .

This is how it weaves rigmarole -

It is easy to meet, without pain to part…

This is because many of those with whom you can go to bed.

That's because few of those with whom you want to wake up.

Author: Tatiana Chernomurko