Lady in black

In evenings, right above the restaurants
The hot air is savage and dull.
And spirit rules the drunky shouts -
Spring spirit and a noxious will.

Far, far away, above dust alleys,
Above boredom of country plots,
A pretzel baked is shining gilded,
And baby cry, which can be heard.

And every night, behind the barriers,
And wringing their own pots,
Among the ditches walk with the ladies
The ones, the tried and tested wags.

Above the lake the creaking oarlocks,
And you can hear a woman scream,
And in the sky, got used to all mocks,
The disk curves senselessly as mim.

And every night my friend, the only,
Reflected in my potty glass,
With moisture astringent and dully,
Like me, is humbled and is stunned.

And next to tables, in the neighborhood
Lackeys are sleeping, sticking out,
And drunks with rabbit eyes for good
"In vino veritas!" cry loud.

And every evening at the time set,
(Or is it me, just dreaming on?)
A girlish stature, in silks seized,
In misty window is moving on.

And slowly passing between drunkens,
Without satellites, alone,
And breathing by perfumes and mists,
She sits by window, waiting none.

And tell and whisper ancient beliefs
Her supple and elastic silks,
And hat with mourning, sorrow feathers,
And narrow hand is full of rings.

Am shackled by unusual closeness,
And looking right behind dark veil,
The shore charmed, which beyond, I notice
And the enchanted distance feel.

Deaf secrets are entrusted to me,
And someone's sun is handed too,
And all souls corners which I own
Are pierced by wine. I'm feeling blue.

And ostrich feathers inclined softly
In my brains swing and make me sad.
And eyes of blue, no bottom, godly
Are blooming on the farthest bank.

The treasure's hidden in my soul,
And key I keep. This key is mine!
Yes. You are right, you're drunken ghoul!
I know that truth is in wine.