I catch a thin dust of hope,
You slows quick step.
But through his closed eyelids
burning words: "Not a friend, and the enemy ".
Only otpylat - and the truth is closer.
Or - oblivious dreams
Pass slowly - and below
Burning I, and above - you.
Then, in the saving of oblivion,
Smile haunting face.
The next day - the new oppressed
Toska by marital crown.
2 November 1901
