A black raven in a snowy night,
A black velvet on the shoulders swarthy.
A voice languishing with a singing light
About all nights in the south.
In a light heart – the passion and easiness,
As if to me from sea was a sign.
Over the bottomless chasm to the aeons
There a trotter, grasping breath, flies.
And the snow-wind, your breathing,
My lips, all intoxicated…
Valentina, the star, my dreaming!
How charmingly sings a nightingale!
And the cruel world! To heart it is poky!
There’s your kisses’ delirium in it,
The dark wraith of the gypsy songs,
And a comet, hasting in glimpse!
February 1910
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