Too Late

The couple quarreled when evening came, They spoke such harsh and bitter words. In heat, they failed to understand, Forgot their love—how quite absurd.

At dawn the husband left for work, His heart now heavy, filled with pain. Through the night he came to know His foolish quarrel caused his strain.

He stepped to kiss his wife awake, But she feigned sleep and turned away. Deep within, her injured pride Coiled tight like serpent there to stay.

He closed the door with not farewell, Looked back at windows from the yard... If only they had known, had known, He'd left their home for good—how hard.

His wife went through her daily chores, As always, tending to her care: She washed the children's clothes with love, Made borscht, and swept with utmost care.

Clean floors and dishes gleaming bright— Soon her husband would return home. "I won't speak first to him," she swore, "Let him ask pardon, let him come."

Her pride rose high within her breast: "I'll not approach him first!" she cried. She acted out their quarrel's scene In her inflamed, tormented mind.

Six o'clock, seven, half-past eight... The door stands silent, motionless still. Her heart aches with a vague unease— What keeps him? Where's his will?

Suddenly a cry, confusion, Someone's voice weeping raw, The neighbor's boy, young Alesha, running, Shouted: "Mine collapse! Mine's law!"

A mine. So short a single word, Yet it tore her heart to shreds. No, she couldn't bear this thought! Perhaps he lived—perhaps he fled.

In tears she ran into the street, Remembering yesterday's pain, How she raged in injured anger, How malice darkened her brain.

Like a doll wound up too tight, repeating: "My love, oh, let it not be you. I'd fall down at your feet in supplication, Whisper softly: 'I forgive you.'"

Had they only known what next day brought, How different then their life might be. Death comes like a thief, so sudden, Leaving no time for harmony.

The verdict thunders down relentless, Its harshness cannot be reversed. Too late to fix what's broken, With this pain she must be cursed.

O people, be more gentle with your loved ones, Show them tenderness and grace, And do not wound them, else you'll suffer Bitter repentance you must face.