When the moon is a hunk of melon chardzhuyskoy
On the edge of the window, and stuffiness around,
When the door is closed, and enchanted house
Air branch blue wisteria,
And in a cup of cold water clay,
And towels snow, and candle wax
lit, as in childhood, moths szyvaya,
roaring silence, not hearing my words, —
Then, from the black Rembrandt angles
With the club that a sudden and hide there too,
But I do not vstrepenus, I will not be afraid even ...
Here loneliness me Mesh.
Landlady black cat looks, as the centuries-eye,
And in the mirror counterpart does not want to help me.
I'll sleep sweetly. Good night, night.
