Do not Cry, do not Cry, my child,
Not worth it insane flour.
trust, he caressed you joking.
trust, he loved you from boredom!
And not only weapon in Georgia we
Fine young men there?
Rapid fire their black eyes,
And black mustache curled their best!
from a far, alien hand
He was thrown to us by fate;
He seeks fame and war, –
And what he could find with you?
He gave you gold,
swore, that forever will not change,
He caresses dearly appreciated -
But your tears, he does not appreciate!