To Vladimir Bestuzhev
Yes, I know: the invisible beams pierced
The night from the beginning.
But there's no any measuring
Of the sufferings of man, blind been!
Yes, I know (in secret) - that world
Is beautiful (I learned You, Love!)
But this ball over the ice is cold and purple,
As anger, as revenge, as blood!
You know, that some light is falling down,
Grasping all-all to the deepest bottom,
Seeking for us, in the whistle of wind's roving,
Searching for the alien silence constant.
But once a stranger, filled with a snow-night,
Who's surely on the darkness fixed,
Sees the entering of not the eternal light,
But dreams that one beam descends to him.
22 march 1912