I bury you, and, yearning,
I grow flowers on the grave,
But in Azure, Links and rejoicing,
trembled, blazhennaya, you.
And to their native land, I was late,
And leave behind you wanted,
But, I sobbed and prayed,
Your laughter ringing me flew.
Funeral tears in vain -
you tremble, laughing, alive!
And grow on the grave of a great
Not flowers - firing words!
June 1902
