At the window is not the wind wanders,
blow out the candles.
Someone close quietly enters,
He stood - and breathes at the shoulder.
I turn around and scared…
And I look forward - in box:
here, reeling, izvivayasy,
He reached out to the barn…
No fog - beautiful, White,
Incomprehensible, dreamily…
He - the mysterious case
Whisper came to me…
March 1902
