And Again In February

And again in February I recollect you. I write poems for you. Happy days of February are short. February only has had time To drink a glass of wine And to hug the new girlfriend, But already the pipe calls him: «It is time! Get on the road!» And February again rides on a horse. There, ahead, are only woods and a snowy distance, Ahead, there is no love And there is no home. Ah, poor, lovely February, I very much regret you, Probably, I would divide with you your destiny. But he has already dashed away, Has covered up his traces with snows He has sent me only greetings from blizzards! I recollect you, I write poems for you But I even do not want To dream of you today.