Here on the clouds is yellow
Matt gleam candles.
We ran in the Cosmo White
Black night trumpeters.
flashed, silently yard,
Birds mourning veil.
In the depths of the fading alley
Zaro black.
They spread out in the clouds spots,
Wrung her hands Day.
Lifeless, immense
Perish without fire.
Someone there will arise a dead eye
And a silver sword?
Invisibility chernomazыm
Who will be there trumpeter?
28 May 1905
