Troughs and Tubs,
Neskladitsy morning,
rainy sunset,
raw pm,
swallowed tears
Sighs in the darkness,
And the call of the locomotive
From the sixteenth mile.
And the early darkness
In the garden and in the yard,
And minor damage,
And in September.
A day fall space
It permeates howl
Tosca holoshenya
On the churchyard across the river.
When the widow's sob
It carries over the hill,
I'm with her all the blood
And I see death at close range.
I see from the front
In the box, Like every year,,
His latest pores
delayed arrival of.
Clearing the path itself,
On my life from the hill
Through the horror yellow leaves
stared winter.
