I was not born to amuse the Tsars.

As long as there is one heart on Earth where I still live, my memory will not die.

I've lived to bury my desires and see my dreams corrode with rust now all that's left are fruitless fires that burn my empty heart to dust. Struck by the clouds of cruel fate My crown of Summer bloom is sere Alone and sad, I watch and wait And wonder if the end is near. As conquered by the last cold air When Winter whistles in the wind Alone upon a branch that's bare A trembling leaf is left behind.

With womankind, the less we love them, the easier they become to charm.

My dreams, my dreams! What has become of their sweetness? What indeed has become of my youth?

If you but knew the flames that burn in me which I attempt to beat down with my reason.

To love all ages yield surrender; But to the young it's raptures bring A blessing bountiful and tender- As storms refresh the fields of spring.