In the sky - prazelen, and a fragment of the month
washed, in blue sleeping, and wind, barely breathing,
passes, and spring, and ice last peg,
And in a sleepy part of a whirlwind of confusion shower…
What sweeter month, that dawns above the sunset?
Know about yourself, silent, friends do not tell:
In the last floor, there, under high roof,
Window, burning is not from one of dawn…
24 Martha 1914
