In the dusty town celestial blacksmith rolled
Fire changeable drive.
And on the streets - like countless drinking
Laughter and gnashing and screeching.
That window, which flowed quietly
Dusty-gray haze,
Beam stuck in hardened glass heart,
needle.
All frightened drunken crowd
grave leave homes…
That is - the whole body is pressed by factory chimneys
Unfamiliar with the riotous merriment hours…
He sank his nails into brick
In a humiliating posture sin…
But the heavenly blacksmith blows fur,
And whistling red-hot flaming whip.
Here - on a pile of hot rocks
Is spread not daring to mouth…
Chest disclosed - and roams between dark eyebrows
has run the passion…
Here - the monk, with downcast eyes,
Hastily going forward…
But those, who gives mad vows,
Who sings hymns impassive,
overtakes thunderstorm!
Reveal all before the sun dreary chest
at the crossroads, in basements, the tower - thanks!
Sun., daring the sun, samples path, –
Our hymns, and songs, and dreams - without number!
Golden needle!
Gigantic beam struck gloom!
Opalennыm, swept away, burned to the ground -
thank you!
27 August 1904
