Here, this poem hasn't been published anywhere else yet:
To the Unborn.
The cry of an unborn child
Made my heart weep with blood.
Now we no longer laugh heartily,
Having killed it with our love.
Why did we rush,
Forgetting about caution?
Now I can't sleep at night,
And the torments of conscience burn me.
I am ready to hate myself,
But you said to me: "Beloved,
How good it is to see you,
How good it is to be near you,
To give you with a smile, a glance
My love." Forgive me, beloved!

Those who know what happened to me in July will understand.