Like a day, lights, but it is unclear,
All - yav, but - as a piece of sleep,
It comes with a coherent speech,
And after her - always spring.
Here she sits down and chats.
She likes to tease me
and hints, that everyone knows
About secret whirlwind of her fire.
But I, not listening strictly
In her impetuous speech,
I follow, as the growing anxiety
In the radiance of the eyes and trembling shoulders.
When will reach the hearts of speech,
And her perfume intoxicated,
And I fall in love with your eyes and shoulders,
As in the vernal breeze, in poetry, –
Sparkle cold wrist,
AND, breaking it, she herself
already repeats, that the power of passion -
Nothing before the cold crazy!..
20 February 1914
