rushed, gleam in the eyes of
firing languages,
Golden splashes night,
urban moths.
The building is smoke sucked,
Crowds of dark flowing…
But drones are carried away,
Amy new flee…
Screams are thrown in handfuls
gold coins.
Foamed over horses
Torch red light spreads.
AND, spinning spokes live,
Race chariots like a whirlwind,
Ahead - a horse with a pipe
Above the terrified crowd.
Skok stone heavy call,
hoarse voice thin copper,
Rasplesnulasь, wide,
Echoing streets river.
At brilliant helmets
Dew dripping snow…
Children of the Night black - where we are?..
Whose voices are crying out?..
Not, again go out of the building,
Not, Again he lied, –
distant insurrection
impending rumble…
December 1906
