You say, that I am napping,
You humiliating hohochesh.
And you make me want
A hundred times to say: love.
Your southern voice Thomen. Apartment
Reminds camp gazelle,
And I have come to you from the countries,
Where the eternal snow and howling blizzards.
I find it strange waltz lightweight ringing
And stifling cloud over you.
You are for me - a beautiful dream,
Skvozyaschy dust the snow…
And I'm afraid to call you
By name. Why do I need a name?
Give me anxiously contemplate
Greedy eyes of my
Your southern shine, forgotten by me,
reminiscent vain
day Flew, beautiful day,
Killed by snow at night.
12 December 1913
