When poets behind the Lyre's labirinth
Will stare their eyes:
Then to the left there'll be river Ind,
To right side - will flow Euphrat.
Between them up to this and that
With the simplicity yet shocking
Edem, which's known by the legend
Will rise up high in the boles' order.
It will rise over the newcomer,
Will rustle: "You're - my son!"
And with hysteric face conjunction
I'll feel, as one of trunk.
I'm - light. With that base - I'm famous.
With that I'm able to throw shadow.
I'm - life of Earth, its zenith ever,
And day, as a beginning point.
1913, 1928