Freshly dug, the heaps of soil
On the grassland are revealed.
Summer noon. The settings boil.
Gauze is far afield.
Who was digging? Were the gnomes —
Lots of funny little things
Building splendid nether homes
Fit for their kings;
Cities in the dark are spreading,
Underground keeps accrete,
And, unsightly, they’re treading
Under my feet;
Their fretted lamps aflare
In the kingdom of the murk?
Wrong. It’s just that down there
Blind moles lurk.
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«Гномы», из цикла «Детский мир», сб. «Фейные сказки», 1905. К. Д. Бальмонт. Полное собрание стихов. Том шестой. Издание второе — М.: Скорпион, 1911.