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           "Love... is not worth the hard work" - Lermontov

Love is, like truthfulness, obscure, and like coffee,
Bitter. And salt becomes more sharp, the more you use it.
Time to change ambience. One must not stay a loser
Always, ad finem, right until the last "Amen".

No end in sight to the line-up of clever books.
A dictionary in a war's not worth a penny.
Blessed is he who unto truthfulness would look.
But truths are many, many...

At times, my Fortune stands before me in a dream,
And I envision that her eyes are all-unseeing. 
Teasing with treasure troves, from year to year more freeing,
Her lavish capital calls out to me, it seems.

I steal!.. These days, only the lazy let it lie.
I take forbidden fruit and brightly glinting jewels.
Though Fate is blind, and lets my filching slip her by,
Her plans are cruel, cruel...

"Rise up" - encourages my guiding angel dim — 
"Just wait, the bitterness succumbs, and joy prevails.
Equally perfect is sweet love and low betrayal,
To one who's strong in spirit - truth will come to him."

"You're right," I nod, "betrayal doesn't mean a thing.
And clearly, those who work for love could just be faking..."
And though my eyes shine, and my footsteps have a spring,
The heart is aching, aching...