Crows croak something.
The dawn is weak.
No from sadness.,
not from sadness, either.
But there will come a longing-grief,
open down and out to the yard.
So what if you're a man
and a boxer, too!
Whirl, will sabaramati,
it'll cloud everything,
you will not find the essence already,
that the cause was.
Was there a point? I don't remember!
I only know that I was.
Hung his head. Who am I talking about?
Sad. Why should I?
A breeze will blow from the sea,
a breeze will blow from the mountains:
we are stronger than any grief!
The Raven croaked, " Nevermore."
The Raven croaked. Take alarm
all crows. Gry in the Crimea!
Dreams or bad dreams?
Or?.. Or?.. I don't understand!
And from the AI-Petrin crown
the fog slid into the white light.
No from sadness.,
not from sadness, either.