Maple Oh my dear, maple zaledenelыy,
What stand leaning under a blizzard of white?
Or saw? Or heard?
Like a walk for the village you came.
AND, like a drunken watchman, Out on the road,
He drowned in the snow, of freezing leg.
Brother, I myself quite often lose something now become unstable,
Before reaching the house with a friendly drinking parties.
They won vstretyl willow, there pine noticed,
Singing their songs under a blizzard of summer.
I looked myself in the same maple,
Just do not rot, rather green.
AND, losing modesty, Muzzy in board,
As someone else's wife, hugging birch.
28 November 1925