Dedicate for N.A.Makarova 20.11.1975
I will touch your satin hands,
Their warmth will drave me to madness.
All around will be vague and unclear
Like the ghostly dawn in a misty dress
Only why to hide those hands of yours?
Is it possible for someone not to see
That your care in the house bears fruit
Like grape fingers on a ripe raceme?
How your wrists run gracefully when you
Go bustling around in the kitchen!
Don't hide your hands, the fog will fall
As you let the one who loves you kiss them!