D. stockings
Do not build houses at the river bends,
Where a noisy life of noticeable growth.
Trust, the end is always recurrent,
No one is clear and simple solemnly.
Your quiet part, Like a bedtime story,
And under him a lonely soul.
You go yourself, silently, to Vespers,
Where is your soul asks, there pray.
Who will come to you, whether he, like an angel, bright,
Receive him, if he is seen in a dream.
And silently without end, so that no one noticed,
Who was sitting on the bench, He flashed in the window.
And nobody knows, what silence,
And what thoughts calm simplicity.
Yes. She will come. Zabeleet siyanye.
Without Guilt kiss mouth to mouth.
June 1905
