Triolet

For me this long-drawn absence from you
Is blacker far than your black braids.
Why has this evil time then made
For me this long-drawn absence from you?
Grown whit where bitter tear-drips strayed,
A triolet thus I started on you:
For me this long-drawn absence from you
Is blacker far than your black braids.

Maxim Bahdanovich 1913