| |
| "You've got no luck in life." So said the fortune-teller |
| Only grieving tears and disillusionment |
| Tell me no further of my future |
| For I know the road leads to the east. |
| |
| The cards were right, what they once foretold |
| And the far east territories were destined for me |
| Of my joyful childhood remain but memories |
| And melancholy letters from my sweetheart. |
| |
| Farewell, my sweetheart, I lost your heart |
| Only my dismal fate glitters now before me |
| Only this devilish game is my beloved |
| It seems then that the hours pass faster. |
| |
| If someday hence fortune brings you love |
| Then don't deny yourself those gentle caresses |
| And as you kiss, just forget our past |
| When Spring once blossomed in our hearts. |
| |
| Poland |
| May 12, 1944 |
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