O Miss Inna, darling Inna!
I’m alone. A window. Snow...
I loved your sister once –
In a childish golden glow.
Did I? – Long ago. Meadows had bloomed...
O Miss Inna, darling Inna!
The smile of love fleetingly blooms.
Snow, more snow, more snow...
I remember your eyes.
Like music, like a song.
A wintry evening. Silence. The two of us alone.
I’m a stranger to you – I know.
But someone shouts: you’ve met a kindred soul!
And suddenly – the sky... the whisper of the grove...
O no, these are Your eyes. – I sob.
Is it your sister or you? – whom I loved...
1915