A horde of wolves fix eyes on back
Look skyward up into sapphirine azure
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Neither pleasure nor love in cold fervour
Do don’t take the sweetest dream away
His heart was withdrawn from sweet gale
The only lovely passion slept in labyrinth
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Who crowned thee with rue tonight
I feel heartsore continuing in Russia
Be full of glee with flowers and trees
Yet I forsook who put a hex on me…
…
She’s not a connoisseur of ancient art
Against your will the clouds roll above
Through pristine dream into the grey of you
There’re no thoughts when look in blue
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Black gale storm – too many wicked lads
A host of flowers are dancing, do not stop
To live means struggle hard with shadows
Of love within much passionate affection
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Wherever I’m roving amidst the beauty stars
Enthralled by nature – why cold in you so far
For what we had trodden a path into pain
We weep out heart with stone in vain
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My hopes are away into the wild dream
The green and blue all over are truth
They whisper silent through my pain
I hike around lake with emptiness
…
The stunning silence was heard crossing
Amongst the emptiness is only pang
Who walking inwardly inside beauty
Who never ever tasted those milky path
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A. Glukhov. Self-portrait. 2018. Collection of Blagodatov in St. Petersburg.
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Whet only one desire to investigate a dream
Upon my heart there is no scintilla of truth
Into the black sky spangled with blue stars
May morning dew is no colder than you are
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Self is never ploughed forth alone outdid
All others through infighting in his dream
Yet pensive reveries stay in the throes
Tormenting sight still goes on thru sleep
…