I shall tell you what will be,
Open for you such distant spots!..
May the historians condemn me
For the incomprehension of the spiral.

On its own circle will return
Hurricanes late and early,
And, like a girth of white peppermint
Ice tightens the paunch of the ocean.

 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 

It will be so and not otherwise,
I cannot say when, but I know - it will be thus.
If northern people cry,
That means, southern people will soon cry.

And then there are no Dschingis Khans’ hordes,
And no rattle of sabres, no clatter of horses’ hoofs -
Billions of drained glasses
Will overflow the sinful earth.