Gregory E.
I visited the old lady at Trinity
And then comes, to the East.
There sits near the white edge of the village,
Obvevaet its evening.
Gathered imps and dwarfs,
Only marvel are bushes
on crutches, in the bag, on crackers,
On tired legs in sandals.
"This wanderer, right, We do not work -
He venerated the relics - and holy;
He breathed divine incense,
To see the Holy Places.
To keep it lush paths,
On the green grass to sit…
So high above the dark fir trees
Flashed golden news "…
And Shaggy, small repent,
Look tenderly on a crutch,
Humiliation in the grass tumble,
Hooves raise dust:
"Forgive us, old are you God,
Do not take us to the Holy Places!
We are here to kiss the foot
his, field Christ.
Engaged in fire village,
Hrozovaya spring upon us,
But for the May subtle charms
Zatlevaet and our Blackberry "…
July 1905
