I am fourteen years old.
VHUTEMAS
Another school of sculpture.
In the wing, where Rabfak,
upstairs,
workshop father.
At a distance of a mile,
Where centenary dust Diana
and canvas,
Our door.
Slab floor
And on the plates gryaztsa.
It wilds winter.
Since December lamps are triumphant.
Port Arthur has put,
But going into the ocean cruiser,
send troops,
waiting squadrons,
And in the old building of post office
watch twilight,
Paints,
palettes
And Professor.
How many types of people and!
That is insane.
Here is a dunce.
This glimmer of something.
But the perfect puppy.
In classes no room to swing fall
And the heat, both in the greenhouse.
Ringing in the flora and laurel
merges
Q şarkanem nog.
Once,
When the noise behind the wall,
How surf, neoslablen,
Whirlpool rooms motionless
And with gas street alive, –
bell rings,
voices approaching:
Scriabin.
ABOUT, where I run
From my deity steps!
The proximity of holidays,
Quarter.
the half-year.
Sparking a string gut,
Days and Nights
open tool.
Compose at least in the morning,
days go by.
Christmas at the end of.
How much is given elkam!
And if only this much in return.
Petersburg night.
Air puchitsya a black floe
From echinated steps.
No one is repaired obstacles.
Who's coats, who in a sheepskin coat.
The moon is cold half rubles.
This Narva department.
The crowd sounds:
Hapon.
The hall hum.
stuffiness.
We counted five thousand trees.
Seyas from the street into the passage,
The stairs molded snow.
Here maternity hospital,
And unpainted vaulted womb
Beating on the walls of rooms
lump unvarnished
century.
The notorious dawn.
Clouds in the bramble and cranberry.
I heard the creaking gallery,
And clubs breath wash.
run out, go
From galleries to the gate,
under gonfalons,
from the gate – the cold,
the space,
set on fire in the winter.
Eight high-profile shafts
and nine,
As the distance, stately.
Caps washed with heads.
save, god, your people.
