Under the ringing and the rustle
Of the monotonous city bustle,
I go away, with soul idle
Into the blizzard, void and darkness.
I tear again the thread of consciousness,
And I again forget all doing...
Around - there're the tramways, buildings...
In front of - the lights and the gloomy shadows...
What if I, being catched by magic,
With the broken thread of consciousness,
Return to home, crushed in rating?
Could you in this case to forgive?
You, who do know such an aim,
The far aim as the leading beacon,
Would you forgive my snow revelry,
My ravings, darkness, poetry?
Or may be better without pardon
You'll wake my bells in a loud way,
That for the slush will fail to take out
Me in the night from homeland?
Под шум и звон однообразный... - перА. Блока
© Copyright: Людмила 31, 2011
Свидетельство о публикации №111082900705
Свидетельство о публикации №111082900705
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