Rubbish...

Дрожит, дрожит моя печаль... Английский вариант. Trembles, trembles my sorrow, in the hour of murkiness, in the hour of parting, I know everything— I’m so sorry, all has gone cold— cold hands, and you only tease the extinguished doubts in my soul with your gaze, while you remain silent, silent again— like a reason for a poem. your eyes— my eyes and I burn at the bottom of the bonfire, you are right again— I am out of place— without you I am almost a beggar. and here I am— standing alone on this wet wayside, everything has vanished— there are no pictures here, I am fading away in a dead tank… what use are words— such murk, and I tremble again— there are thousands of us like this,— we cannot deceive this essence, everything is tiresome, confusion in thoughts…