I know, you are close to me…
The patient needs rest so…
Sticking to the antiquity,
Solemnly delirious dream…

With you, my light, I say…
pixilated, Veseli me, pain! –
You promise me the dawn?
Not, this candle will burn down!

so listen, as memory sharp, –
No wonder I was in mortal delirium…
Yesterday were still, yesterday
Treasured forest and mountain…

I was looking for a White Virgin -
you hear? You believe? Do you sleep?
I was looking for the Ancient Virgin,
And my horn sounded peal.

Here are my curls frost covered,
Breath spiral winter…
And the wind my eyes blinded,
And my horn sounded wrong…

but listen, How to listen when
I am the voice piercing blizzards!
What happened to me in those years, –
Tom never happen!..

I firmly Stop germinating -
ABOUT, Hear the dying covenant!..
At last you will tell:
I wake up the White Virgin!

Here she is sleeping in a cloud of mist
On the dark cliff top,
And loud cry Eagles,
Its lavishing praise…

How strange my mourning delirium!
That - delirium destitute soul…
You, my light, - the only light.
The other - in this mourning there.

Cozy me black dreams.
In their memory freshens my:
In the vision of antiquity,
seasoned, familiar country…

We were, - but we moved,
And I remember the sound of funeral:
As the coffin carrying my heavy,
How rained clods.

4 November 1905

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Alexander Blok
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