My evening is near and weak-willed.
Slightly vechereyut heaven, –
Rushing sounds with bells,
Winged hear voices.
You - a gentle and subtle sting
My tortured depth,
I watch insight tired
For news alien to me in the spring.
Between us - random excitement.
Accidentally sweet deception -
I was doomed to worship,
You called from the white countries.
And in an infinite remoteness
Zamrut sad voice,
When enveloped in shadow
My turn off the heavens.
27 Martha 1902
