7
Way before the familiar and rather short
This morning siliceous and heavy.
I am embarking on a deserted beach,
Where was my home and the donkey.
Or I got lost in the fog?
Or someone was joking with me?
Not, I remember the outlines of the stones,
Skinny bush and rock above the water…
Where is the house? - And the sliding foot
I stumble on the cast scrap,
Severe, rusty, at Black Rock
The prolonged wet sand…
Swinging motion familiar
(Or still is in sleep?),
I hit a rusty crowbar
According to the laminate stone on the bottom…
And from there, where gray octopus
Swayed in the azure gap,
Zakarabkalsya crab arousing
And I sat on the sandy shoals.
I moved, - he raised,
Widely gaping claws,
But immediately met with another,
They fought and lost…
On the trail, I protoptannoy,
There, where the hut was before,
Worker went down with Kirk,
Pursuit of another donkey.
6 January 1914 – 14 October 1915
