. . Farewell pain It was the fatal hour: I had to leave... The morning in a gray was drawn. As in the pain of my soul the persistent rain was sobbing. - Will you come back? - I will be back! You gave me from your hair a little curl which you kissed, the kiss that my lips wished! Your face seemed because of my farewell, inscrutable, but I saw right away that in all its brilliance in it was drawn a great regret: the anguish... with you it stayed. .