I listened to the evening star,
How fierce over the abyss.
And the death of howling at the door,
And Ukhalov Black Garden, like an owl,
And the city, mortally exhausted,
Troy was at this hour of the ancient.
The hour was unbearably bright
AND, it seems, sounded to mallow.
You gave me the wrong gift,
Who drove from afar.
He seemed empty fun
That evening fire you.
And he began a slow poison
In my mysterious fate.
And he is the forerunner of all the troubles of my, –
Let us not forget it!..
Still crying around the corner.