She was the Dawn of the East,
I was - an immutable granite.
But powerful cognizance of the Prophet
Burned in the heat of her cheeks.
Her deep fry
Sharpening the heart of a dead man.
It seemed - powerful blows
Destroy the stone to the end.
But, It kindled the dawn,
I rose from the dead to a new fight
And voznosylsya head
Until the storm clouds.
And there, fleeing human bondage,
Free, in centuries of pride -
I sensed a pink foam
Her beloved shores.
March 1902
