It’s dark, despite the moon above.
For many, life may turn out better, -
Inside my soul, the spring of love
Will not replace the stormy weather.
The night’s spread out in the street,
And to my spirit’s muted stare,
That’s soaked in poison, hot and sweet,
It answers with a deathly glare.
I try to keep my passions down,
Out in the cold and dawning mist,
I wander, lost among the crowd,
Engrossed, with thoughts of only this:
It’s dark, despite the moon above.
For many, life may turn out better, -
Inside my soul, the spring of love
Will not replace the stormy weather.
By Alexander Blok
Seems like a pretty sad poem for a bright and sunny photo ... hmmm. Love won't replace stormy weather... muted soul soaked in poison... Is that how you felt in Russia?
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