A.Blok, I've cut out a staff... - translation (rus.)
I've cut out a staff from the oak
With tender such whisper of blizzard.
My cloths are so rude and so poor,
Oh, may be unworthy, uneasy!
But being a beggar, undoubtly,
I'll find the true road this day.
The sun, I say you: go out!
I've just come to window main!
And there in frosty nice evening
The young girl will open a door
With her pale hand; silent greeting
I'll hear: 'Please, enter, my Lord...'
She's a beauty with a long golden hair,
The moon and the stars are therein.
So bright she is shining, and fair,
That my staff dropped the precious tear...
25 march 1903
Lyudmila Purgina's Other Poems
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