Houses grow, the desire,
But suddenly look back:
There, where there was a white building,
You will see a black stink.
So all things change their place,
Imperceptibly go up.
You, Orpheus, lost bride, –
Who whispered to you: "Ohlyanys"?..
I will close head white,
I scream and throw myself into the stream.
And emerge, swing over the body
Fragrant, river flower.
5 November 1902
