To Clavia, the Armenian girl:

I can hardly remember that day,

I often remember...

I remember the day I remember..,

It rains and the boy runs home.

And I've told you many times

Not many times before...

By noon the sun will be shining in my soul,

I'll be happy...

You'll never make me feel better

You can't do it

You smell so sweet

Does my closed hand make me a prisoner?

My starlight in my dreams,

I'll give you my love. I've run aground...

Mezei Karsa XII. H