How can you bear to look at the Neva? How can you bear to cross the bridges?. Not in vain am I known as the grieving one Since the time you appeared to me. The black angels' wings are sharp,...
Twenty-first. Night. Monday. Silhouette of the capitol in darkness. Some good-for-nothing -- who knows why-- made up the tale that love exists on earth.
I haven't locked the door, Nor lit the candles, You don't know, don't care, That tired I haven't the strength To decide to go to bed. Seeing the fields fade in The sunset murk of pine-needles,...