Sviatoslav Zhabotynskyi

the night is dark like devil\'s pubis

the night is dark

like devil\'s pubis

 

wind blows

in owl’s skull

 

wind

swings plants

like smoke

 

wind in vain

shreds leaves -

it is sewn

with mistress\'s hair

 

the night breathes so

as if wants some wine

 

when it infects recluses

who did not hide in the cell