About unrequited love

What we love unrequited?
What we ourselves harassing,
Day on a flight sitting in the window,
All looking winged muse?

Why "all thought only of him»?
And languor sighs on the portrait,
And at night plod anchorite,
And fall asleep, tired in the afternoon?

Love rips the soul apart,
While pure and meek,
And after - does inconspicuous:
All the ashes: borscht, irons socks.

And muzzle drunken wife,
Salary, children and pots,
Pull exhausting intestine,
And all nag, nag each other ...

Better still do not understand,
Who and how we did not have,
All circumvent reefs and shoals,
And live. Does not change.

"Where is the feeling of flying and beauty?»
Romantic ask inconsolably,
And we answered him, of course
Answer: Head of the cat.