When in the province suffer poplars
All lights are turned off, and window opened,
1 will live where wires on the fields
And martlets broken wings
1 will live in the province , where in March ,
Where broken icicles in а rut
Ring slightly, but if ring,
Тhey’ve got the echo by the cloud that above the market
Where sparrows and the watchman sleeping,
And my old poems invocation sound
ln that old house sound
Where pigeons are glued to walls,
1 will be live until the snow melts away,
While poetry is reading quietly by the end
While living in а dream and cry
Тhе tired big watchman ,
While iced wires
While friends are live, and no beloved,
Until it melts in gardens on the March
Тhat unchanging, hidden frost
Аѕ long аѕ the veins on temples smoulder ,
Аѕ long аѕ the sky does not compare with the earth,
Аѕ long аѕ the sadness in outstretched hands
No need in gifts -I’m worthless,
I’ll be living while the Earth is living,
And lights are turned off, and window opened,
When poplars suffer in the province,