Я прогнал тебя кнутом В полдень сквозь кусты,...

I drove you away with a whip
At noon through the bushes
To wait here together
Quiet emptiness.

Here we sit on the moss with you
In the middle of the swamps.
Third - month at the top -
He twisted his mouth.

I, like you, a child of oak groves,
My face is also erased.
Quieter than waters and below grasses -
A seedy devil.

On a stupid cap
The bell is parting.
Behind shoulders - in the distance -
A network of river beams ...

And we are sitting, fools, -
Undead, water sickness.
The caps turn green
Backwards.

Plagued dream of water
Wave rust ...
We are the forgotten tracks
Someone's depth ...

Alexander Blok