Immanuil Kant
I sit behind the screen. I have
These tiny feet…
Such handle me,
Such a dark window…
Warm and dark. I stub out
spark, which they bring,
But thanks bring…
I have long been asking for a good time,
But these pens… I'm in love
In my wrinkled skin…
I can see a sweet dream,
But I can not disturb:
Not to worry oblivion,
Here these reflections on the window…
And I cross my pen,
And also crossing my legs.
I sit behind the screen. It's warm here.
There's someone here. It is not necessary candles.
eyes bottomless, like glass.
On the handle wrinkled - rings.
18 October 1903
