The dunes - Block

I do not like empty dictionary
Love words and pathetic expressions:
"You are my". «Your». "I love". «Forever yours».
I do not like slavery. free eye
Beautiful woman looking into the eyes
And I say: "Tonight is the night. But tomorrow -
Shining and new day. come.
Take me, solemn passion.
And tomorrow I'll be gone - and zapoyu ".

My soul is simple. The salty breeze
Seas and Smolny spirit pine
it harbored. And in it - all the same signs,
What's on my weather-beaten face.
And I'm fine - impoverished beauty
Shifting dunes and the North Sea.

So I thought,, wandering along the border
Finland, delving into the dark voices
Green-eyed, unshaven and Finns.
there was silence. And platform
Ready train divorcing couples.
And Russian customs guard
Lazily resting on the sand
breakage, Where does the web.
There opened a new country -
And Russian church looked homeless
In a foreign unknown country.
So I thought,. And it came
And I stood on the slope. were Ryzhi
Her eyes from the sun and sand.
And the hair, resinous pine as a,
At low tide the blue fell on the shoulders of.
came. He crossed his bestial look
With my eyes animal. I burst out laughing
high laugh. He threw me
Tuft of grass, and a handful of gold
sand. Then - he jumped
AND, leaping, rushed down ...

I drove her away. Iscarapal
The face of the needles, bloodying hands
And the dress tore. He shouted and chased
Her, as a beast, again he shouted and called,
And passionate voice was like the sound of the horn.
She left a trail of light
The shifting dunes, and lost in the pines,
When their braided night blue.

And I lie, from running out of breath,
One, in sand. The glowing eyes
Still running it - and all the laughs:
laughing hair, laughing legs,
dress laughs, swollen from running ...
I lie and think: "Tonight is the night
And tomorrow night. I will not go away,
While it is not seeded, as a beast,
And the voice, beckoning, like horns,
Not blocked her path. And do not tell:
"My! My!"- And let me shout it:
"Your! your!»

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Boris Pasternak
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