The soul is silent. In the cold sky
All the same stars it burn.
Circle of Zlaté il on bread
noisy nations shout…
It is silent - and hears the cries -
And sees distant worlds,
But alone in a two-faced
Prepares wonderful gifts,
Gifts to their gods prepares
AND, anoint, in the silence,
Tireless rumor catches
Distant call of another soul…
So - white birds over the ocean
Nerazluchennye heart
There have been calls for the fog,
Back down to them only until the end of.
3 February 1901
