At the window is not the wind wanders…

At the window is not the wind wanders,
blow out the candles.
Someone close quietly enters,
He stood - and breathes at the shoulder.

I turn around and scared…
And I look forward - in box:
here, reeling, izvivayasy,
He reached out to the barn…

No fog - beautiful, белый,
Incomprehensible, like in a dream…
He - the mysterious case
Whisper came to me…

March 1902

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Alexander Blok
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