Of my hand I did not vzygryval,
On my chest I am not vsplakival…
An immutable and eternal
inverted flare:
The soul in my izglavii,
Over my suffering at the foot
(Of my hand I did not flinched, –
Not your hand deposed)
Azrail! At night, with no month
And without the stars are beveled road.
At this hour, the heavy-weighing
I will not be a burden…
Azrail? The nights without leaving
And without stars: antics foiled!
At this hour, hard-breathable
I will not be burst…
And then the finger like a torch
Write in the dawn grayness
About women, I called you
Azrael instead – Eros.
17 February 1923
