Today you are in the top three sonorous
fly, bogach, pirate, poet,
And every, passing the bottom panel,
Enviously look after…
But life - carriageway road,
amiss, creepy at heart:
Here every idle paupers lot
He wants to stay in Barysh…
The driver - whether it is in the dark jerkin
With feather peacock parade,
Had he been a dream of the poet modest, –
Do not miss it from the eye…
Zadremlesh - and you in slumber
He polosnet sharp blade,
Ile on a desert povorote
For less than a mile to tie sash,
And in the hour, when the change will,
You flashes afar
The bush darkening field
A poor Svetik firefly…
6 August 1910
