By Alexander Blok
When we’d met with you long ago,
I was so ill, with a rusty soul,
Sister, the destined friend, the world
Seemed then for me as the town Warsaw!
And I remember: in daytime I was ‘a poet’,
And in night (the freedom’s ghost!) the ravings howl
Above the river Visla black – a black cry.
How it was boring, cold and hard!
When I could wipe out from mind,
If I have right, your den of woe,
Wet and too boring, the dark town,
The gloomy Warsaw!
Only you, sister, reiterated
With your exciting apprehension,
About all the world’s – the God’s dwell,
About the cold, about the blaze!
1910 – 6 february 1914
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