"So you, my 
beauty, 
have just rid yourself 
of two suitors.
Tell me: 
how did you
part with 
the first one?"
"I parted with him 
merrily, 
laughing when I 
said goodbye.
But he, 
poor soul, 
put his head 
on my breast
and silently 
lay there a long time, 
wetting my handkerchief 
with his scalding tears.
 “God be with you!” 
he muttered, 
mounted his horse, 
and set off down the road,
To while away 
the centuries."
"And you laughed 
at him? 
You didn’t 
believe his tears?
Tell me, 
wise woman: 
how did you part 
with the other one?"
"The other one was different. 
He didn’t weep, 
but I can’t stop 
weeping.
Oh, how cold 
his final embrace was!
How heartless 
his speech!
 “I won’t be 
 away long. 
 we’ll meet 
 again soon
 and we’ll 
 weep together!”
How could 
I reply?
He waved his hand, 
and with not even a bow,
Not looking 
into my face,
Spurred his horse 
and rode off."
"And which of the two 
will stay 
with your soul, 
my beauty?
"I feel sorry for 
the first one, of course;
But I love 
the latter!"