Early morning, when people were too lazy to move,
Gray sleep in anticipation of the last days of winter,
I woke up in the room and a man whore,
Slowly woke up among the darkness of carbon monoxide.
morning pottered. Hopelessly burned down candles,
Oplyvshy candle loomed in front of oplyvshih.
During the cold window shaking women's shoulders,
The man in the mirror combing her hair parted in.
But the gray morning is not deceived:
Today she was, death, faintly,
a lamp in the evening her face flashed,
In this very room I was in love.
Today ugly shirt hanging folds,
At all was hateful gray patina.
Corners sticking furniture, littered with cigarette butts, papers,
All the more terrible in the room was the red dresser.
And suddenly flew sounds. Willow, swollen buds,
Raskachnulas the wind, showering snow.
The church bell struck. opened vents,
And at the bottom was heard a hurried run.
People hurriedly ran out of the gate
(Street concealed plank fence).
boys, women, wipers noticed something,
neighborhoods rukami, drafting an unfamiliar pattern.
beat bell. buzzing cries, barking and neighing.
There, on a dirty street, where people gather,
A female prostitute - from the bed of drunken desire -
On the knees, In a shirt, lifted hands upwards…
Highly - over the houses - in the mist snow storm,
At the site of the south clouds and the midnight stars,
Pink zigzag gaping blue
Thin arm thin flattened cross.
3 February 1904
