At someone else's window

The hair of the golden feather grass is also light
And the depth is transparent to the eyes.
Snow dust glistens on a familiar scarf
And she's already someone else's wife.
The rocker will not flinch under a white hand,
A thin eyebrow does not move,
You are so brave, you are so strong
What did love give to another?
I was afraid of my father, but obeyed my mother,
They say she is poverty-hungry,
But now you don't want to, you can't understand
That the line lay between you.
Until the crown, until the last moment I waited,
That the beloved will come and save
And then as if she died alive
But love lives in the deceased.
Yes, love and deceased, it turns out, is needed,
But she is as far away as a star
Remember, remember! Now I'm someone else's wife
And the line lies between us.

* poems by an unknown person from the book of reviews from the artist's exhibition

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A primordially Russian painting:
She is divine! And he -
Known for his bravado
In love with her beautiful.

Hug, burn dry lips
Free both spirit and flesh.
In only one night, at least in one,
Grind your whole life.

And die by the will of fate
Having drunk love wine! ...
If not for the watchful eye
In the frosty lace of the window

author's version - poems by Konstantin Vasiliev