Through the mist of your ancient ways,
I walk in silence, lost in a daze.
Your bridges arch like endless dreams,
Your rivers hum with eternal streams.
What secrets sleep in your stone embrace?
What truths lie buried in your grace?
I see the years, the endless fight,
To claim your fire, to hold your light.
You are the prism of my soul’s despair,
A city of beauty beyond compare.
Forever will your spirit endure,
My Petersburg, both fierce and pure.
VI.
What do I behold in you, my dearest Petersburg?
In you, I was born and swiftly raised.
Through phantom doors, I love you still,
As I see the glow from your cathedral spires.
In you lies my dream, concealed for years,
In you, my spirit of love, and the sorrow it bears.
Now, for all eternity, I glimpse your facets,
As you open doors I once believed sealed.
What whispers in the hush of your courtyard wells?
What lingers in the rustling leaves of your gardens,
Or the droplets clinging to the rain-drenched panes?
A tear has hidden itself in your tranquil waters,
And no stranger dared disturb the cry of gulls.
In a feverish trance, I refused to close my eyes,
Staring at your bridges and lanterns, silent until dawn.
Вы ознакомились с фрагментом книги.
Приобретайте полный текст книги у нашего партнера: