Wind called and drove the chase,
Black masks are not caught…
We were true to our horses,
Someone helped White…
He covered his snow sled,
Horses needles teasing,
Build towers out of the fog,
I Kruz, and sang in the fog,
And because of snowstorm
Eye dark guarded.
Wind and methane fast
according to Burian,
And sheaves of sparks raced
of fog, –
masks the wind has not caught up,
And from the heights serebrozvezdnyh
Cloud of white ripped…
And in the open blue abyss
We denote the two shadows,
Flies in the distance
unknown side…
Strange visions essays
The black masks dancing -
We were in love.
13 January 1907
