Don’t keep love-letters ever maybe,
Somebody has a priestly letter.
What does He write to us? What wants He to say?
Constantly many letters do send.
About the loveable, He will have said!
I’m writing now about goodness of the words
About Teacher mine. I can, of course,
The best of phrases choose now
And write all the fine ones. How
I’ll find them, if I don’t know
The language, which I study now,
But I’m not afraid, whit not!
I can ask help of my heart a lot.
It doesn’t have the tongue, but must I say
Feelings very beautiful are in there.
I’m hearing what advice it gives now
And writing the love story on the ground.
About the shine and biggest fire having come
I feel always, – Your thought is fine!
You had taught me about thoughts
So wonderful and in them the first:
To be always with a smile in life,
To be more beautiful and nice
To be very kind, loving and fine,
And only right I shall have done.
My Teacher, all the words in life
Can’t tell much about You, – how fine
Is the theory Your! Take the tribute thankful mine!
I’m preparing for the new way
And must be ready to wholly pay.
I shouldn’t leave of the duty nothing,
And pay so as to make the holding.
So difficult to prepare alone,
But I must know truth, which is simple.
This way may pass the single one,
Therefore I must get ready some.
What is necessary on this way?
In the first place it’s a thought of fay.
In the second, it is the thought of free-will,
And in the third, it’s one about the common weal.
Enough that to make the beginning,
And these three thoughts can be worth following.
Another one attracts the mind,
That is so beautiful and kind.
On the way are helpful only thoughts,
The luggage is very light, not gross.
The thoughts are better friends in life,
Their help is needed all the time.
I’ll gather all my helpers here,
Who went together, will be near.
I don’t feel alone and don’t fear.
Has been arising gloom in life,
But who awaited it, and it was coming why?
I never awaited the dark time,
But it without call had come.
Represents the darkness, present its,
And waiting, what will I do with a lot of hits.
What pushed me in the darkness one,
Why can’t I get lost in the previous time.
Always it finds, and always it does hit,
Why can’t it be tired, never sleep?
I pity, sorry feel for you, —
And send to the rest home for rest, adieu!