The evening flares, the cat naps on a beam.
Someone is praying: "Lord Jesus."
The twilight blazes, the fog kindles;
There is a scarlet curtain over the ornate window.
Spider webs stretch from the golden toolshed.
Somewhere a mouse is scratching in a closed cage...
By the forest meadow - bundles of wheat.
Firs, like spears, rest against the sky.
The dew-covered groves have started to smolder...
In the heart, only silence and relics.