Pier bezmolvna. Land close.
Earth is not visible. night deep.
I am standing on wet gray boards.
The storm roars in gray curls.
And I hear, hear, if I shout:
Put to sea on a stone candle!
When the stick shuttle wife,
We will be saved along with it!
And it is terrible, and hard in the wet sand
waves beat, send waves of gray hint…
She is away. No answer.
Proklyatoe Sea, give me answer!
Long away, there is a stone! There put a candle!
And I do not know, Do I cry.
July 1903. WITH. Shakhmatovo
