Nadezhda Zalshupinoy

How to make do with the life of an eccentric,
That every day for a small fee
Lettings over the roar of the abyss attic
Potsdam spešaŝemu sunset?

He puts a rose with mignonette
The swirling on a mile basket,
Where semaphores arguing beauty
With snow dalyu, smelling gasoline.

In the hands of roofs, in pipes, in nedotroh
not twilight, – pencils for make-up.
There escaping from the darkness, underground
Lump grimaces flies on the wings of smoke.

30 January 1923

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Boris Pasternak
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