For O. A. Glebova-Sudeikina
‘What do you see, on the wall, dimly alive,
At that hour when the sunset eats the sky?
A seagull, on a blue cloth of waters,
Or perhaps it’s those Florentine gardens?
Or is it Tsarskoye Seloe’s vast view,
Where terror stepped out before you?
Or that one who left your captivity,
And walked into white death, freely?’
No, I see only the wall – that shows
Reflections of heaven’s dying glow.
