I while away my life,
my insane, dead:
Today - sober triumphant,
And tomorrow - I cry and sing.
But if death be?
But if behind me
He - his enormous hand
Covered with mirror - worth?..
Flash eye mirror light,
And in horror, zazhmurya eyes,
I turn back to the area the night,
Where no one will return…
17 September 1910
