Bulat Okudzhava
Into the house he came at last...

Into the house he came at last
Where she’d dreamed of him as years came and passed,
Where for an age he’d yearned to be
For she had so decided, and so had he.

I swear this must’ve been love indeed,
Take a look: you will recognize its deed.
But listen, go call on the Heaven above —
Still how can someone make any sense of love?

The rain came late and nudged the door.
And she kept her silence, and he said no more,
And he turned his back to leave for the best,
And she didn’t come after to fall on his chest.

I can swear this must’ve been love indeed,
Take a look: you will recognize its deed.
But listen, go call on the Heaven above —
Still how can someone make any sense of love?

Translated by Evgenia Sarkisyants