There is a demon in the morning. Smoky bright it,
Zolotokudry and happy.
As the sky, yidian struyasçiysya Gassan,
All - mother of pearl iridescence.
But, as the night darkness comes through blue,
So this face betrays sometimes terrible,
And gold curls - Cervone red,
And the voice - the roar of forgotten storms.
24 Martha 1914