Here you will find the Poem Don't say he loves me as before... of poet Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
Don't say he loves me as before, That, as before, he treasures me... no! He callously destroys my life, Although I see the knife shake in his hand. In anger, weeping, yearning, indignation, Obsessed and wounded in my soul, I have no life - I struggle...for him alone I live - But what a life!.. O, what a bitter life it is! How stingily he measures out the air for me... Less generous than to a mortal foe... Oh, drawing breath is difficult and painful, I can still breathe, but I can live no more.
