Yearning, furious, furious…

Yearning, furious, furious,
Tosca in two or three jumps
reaches a window-sill, curtained
Obnoskami krestovika.

Tosca glass knocks
And wet Kunitz imposed
There, where the plateau lunar-holmnym
night forest moan
Vraskačku, mouths clenched,
Corroded by sulfuric moon.

Through thickets thistle, scalded,
Backsides sneaking longing;
Where dub double nasupilsâ,
Here, the same yellow bogey all,
And also, gray smiling,
Moon oaks clamped mouths.

To that smile otsvechivaya,
Kept silent clenched in a thousand
About oprometchyvo-zapalchyvuyu,
Pro-arrogant cloudy night.

Sheets air sniff,
According to him shiver
And the nostrils of coniferous zagvozdok
Inflames riot sky.
About Sky brawl only knows
Redizna penetrating their,
The adjacent corner of the north
K it, in their dens entree.
disheveled, furtively, sideways,
Tosca in two or three jumps
reaches, black, hurriedly
Vonzennogo zenith bitch.
Swarming, swarming lulls domes,
They are a blue stream,
Tosca pops mourners thickets,
We must all hoisting the cry.
And then one night in the world is
Bobylev for the dead tracts,
One of the world bitches pollinated
Pervoputkom milky night.
One mark of anguish on a bough,
Full moon not bear the stigma,
And kunyu leg raises stigma,
Full Moon gives honor.
it, foot in the air leading, yearning
He served with all their urine
At night, to the stars, and pray with the last bitch
Remove the legs from the splinter.
I hope, it is removed. Then, in the hole
Glazier loopholes to insert it,
my soul, with the name of the female in the world
Corrosive stubborn photo.

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Boris Pasternak
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