I stood up and lifted his hands three times.
Me through the air rushed
Dawn solemn sounds,
Purple odevaya vыs.
It seemed, woman rose,
I prayed, departing in the Temple,
And pink arm cast
Grain docile doves.
They gleamed somewhere above,
peeling, stretched into a thread
And soon the cloudy roof
Wings went gold.
On gilding their borrowing,
High standing in the window,
Suddenly, I saw a huge ball,
Floating in the red silence.
