A Poem by Alexander Blok

Маленький Принц
That night, that pharmacy, that streetlight –
Its dim and gloomy senseless glare,
There’s no escape – the ennui streaming
For decades, year after year;

You die, get born – the seconds dribble…
You see again that dreary sight:
Canal at night, its icy ripples,
The pharmacy, the street, the light…