Песня последней встречи [Pesnya posledney vstrechi] [English translation]

So helplessly the heart was growing cold,

Nevertheless, my steps were light.

On the left hand I wore

The glove from the right.

It seemed there were countless steps,

But I knew there were only three!

Midst maples the autumnal whisper

Was begging: “Die along with me!

I’m deceived by my morose,

Fickle, black-hearted fate.”

I answered: “Darling, my dear!

And so am I [deceived]. Will die with you…”

Of that last encounter is this song:

At the dark house, I glanced -

Only the bedroom's candles

Burned with lukewarm yellow flames.