I Thought That The Heart...

I thought that the heart made of stone,
That it-s fully empty and dead:
Though fire in it had been thrown,
It-s not damaged or just upset.

And that-s right: it was not tormented,
If - painful, then only a bit,
But, yet, it is better to end it,
Put out, while you can do it...

The heart is in darkness entire,
I-ve known: the victory-s mine -
At last, we extinguished the fire...
And, yet, in a smoke I die.