WITH. Solovyov
In the forgotten graves of Grass he was,
We forgot yesterday… And forget the words…
And it was the circle of silence…
Those who go down this death, burnt down,
Do not you alive? Hast thou not shine?
Is your heart - not spring?
Only here and breathe, at the foot of the graves,
Where once I folded gentle songs
about dating, may be, with you…
Where for the first time in my wax features
Seclusion life breathed You,
Probyvayas mohylnoy travoy…
1 April 1903
