I like the evening light, and lights, that first inflamed, And the pale sky, where the stars are not, yet, here. Oh, how strange are looks of men in slow shade: They simply look at me without shame and fear. And I am their kin, forgetting their sins, -- The sins of passing men, so sad and thoughtful fellows -- Because we all just glide on edge of airy dreams, Because they all, like me, belong to evening shadows. Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, September, 2000