I won’t come to visit you,

Don’t wait for me in vain.

You know the reason, it’s quite true —

It’s written in the stars again.

I won’t go with you to the plays,

Or shopping — what a fuss!

You’re making plans for better days —

But none of them for us.

I won’t go with you to the shore,

Don’t even dream of that.

It’s clear, and clear once more —

We’ve reached the final chat.

I won’t buy you a single gift,

Won’t knit with my own hands

A little bunny, soft and swift —

Our story’s in the sands.

And on a dark and quiet night,

I won’t love you, not even a bit.

Instead, I’ll take a pencil, light,

And pull my notebook out — just it.

I’ll write some lines for me alone,

You won’t hear them, read or see.

Better off at home, on my own,

In my forgotten room, quietly.

So don’t invite, don’t beg, don’t plea —

Just let it be, just let it go.

Our summer love has said to me:

“It’s time to close the show.”