A poem by Alexander Block – Alexandre Block – Alexandr Blok – Александр Блок
(1880-1921)

I prefer the gorgeous freedom,

And I fly to lands of grace,

Where in wide and clear meadows

All is good, as dreams, and blest.

Here they rice: the clover clear,

And corn-flower’s gentle lace,

And the rustle is always here:

“Ears are leaning… Take your ways!”

In this immense sea of fair,

Only one of blades reclines.

You don’t see in misty air,

I’d seen it!It will be mine!

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