The clock goes by, and days, and years.
I want to shake some sleep,
Face the people, nature,
Dispel the twilight times…
There's someone waving, teases light
(So winter night, the porch
Shadow someone would look silhouette,
And quickly hide face).
The sword. He was. But he - not needed.
Who exhausted his hand on my? –
I remember: small number of pearls
one night, by moonlight,
The patient, mourning Chill,
And the sea expanse of snow…
From beneath her lashes lighteneth horror -
vintage horror (give to understand)…
The words? - They did not have. - Why was? –
no sleep, no reality. away, away
sounded, motto, took
And is separated from the ground…
And died. And lips singing.
hours passed, or year…
(Only telegraph rang
On the black sky wires…)
And suddenly (as memorable, familiar!)
distinctly, from a distance
voice came: esse homo! –
sword fell. hand trembled…
And tied with silk stuffy
(So that the blood did not come from the black veins)
I was cheerful and obedient,
Disarmed - served.
But the hour has come. Pripominaya,
I remembered: not, I am not a servant.
so Reach, sash color!
Khlyni, blood, and stained with snow!
4 October 1910
