In the taverns, in the alleys, in twisted,
In the electric waking dream
I searched endlessly beautiful
And immortal love with fame.
There were screams from the street drunk.
They have been in the sun glittering shop windows.
The beauty of the feminine faces!
These proud eyes of men!
These were the kings - not wanderers!
I asked the old man near the wall:
"You decorate their delicate fingers
Innumerable pearls prices?
You gave them the multicolored coat?
You lit them sheaves of rays?
You painted scarlet lips,
Bluish arc eyebrows?»
But the old man did not answer,
Leaving the crowd to dream.
I stayed, mysteriously bright,
This gloss music imbibe…
And they were all past,
Vaguely each heart melting,
to shut, anyone incomparable,
Fly off into the blue edge.
And flashed for a couple paroyu…
I was waiting for the Bright Angel Us,
to here, in Glee sidewalk,
He is one accustomed heaven…
And at the top - on the ledge of a dangerous -
Quiet, crouched, dwarf pressed,
And it seemed to us a red flag
Sprawled in the sky language.
December 1904
