And the time has come. His cloak twisted time,
And the sword flashed, and the walls went.
So I went with the crowd - there, for all,
In the misty heights and evil.
For steep slopes again opened cliffs,
The people roptal, leaders have lost power.
To meet us were storm clouds,
Their lightning sheaf Drobil.
And his hands hung, like a whip,
When there clenched fists,
threatening thunder, crying children,
And his wife's wrap up in scarves.
And I, exhausted, behind, I had gone down,
For me - my crowd soputnikov,
We do not shined blue sky,
And the sun - in the clouds storm.
we wandered, murmured helplessly,
And the old huts could not find,
AND, nocturnal fires converging, shaking,
Hoping to find a way…
Unnecessary heat. futile wanderings.
we dreamed, of dream Razlyubi.
So - destined unhappiness of dream
has forgotten thee.
1 August 1908
