Rain

In the rain, Paris blooms
Like a gray rose ...
Rustles, intoxicates
Wet caress of anesthesia.

And dancing through the windows
Faster, faster
And laughing and rejoicing,
Gray fairies are hovering ...

Pulling a thousand fingers
Threads of gray silk
And touches the hoop
Hastily the needle.

On a blue varnish
Glare scatter ...
In the passing darkness
Their faces became clouded ...

How many eyes are dissimilar!
And they rush into confusion
And kiss passers-by
And caress the plants ...

And on the heaps of treasures
Spilled over the stones
Look at the faces of monsters
From the height of Notre-Dame ...

Maximilian Voloshin