How, and where, should my eye start?
With the first sand grain I step?
With the first sea wave I touch?
Or let the eye dance
around the seaside
until the sun becomes other –
yellow becomes red,
becomes blue,
becomes black –
the absence of colour!
But now!
A fair-haired beach,
A blue-eyed sea,
Too innocent, naïve,
Impractical, immensely meek,
Too peaceful is the first week
of Lent.
Unpolished are the diamonds in the sky,
and thus it will remain.
The seagulls cry
reciting Prince Myshkin:
“You should pass us by
and forgive us
our happiness”,
I never thought what was his voice like?
Какой же у него был голос?