A.Blok, I'Ve Cut Out A Staff... - Translation (Rus.) Poem by Lyudmila Purgina

I've cut out a staff from the oak
With tender such whisper of blizzard.
My cloths are so rude and so poor,
Oh, may be unworthy, uneasy!

But being a beggar, undoubtly,
I'll find the true road this day.
The sun, I say you: go out!
I've just come to window main!

And there in frosty nice evening
The young girl will open a door
With her pale hand; silent greeting
I'll hear: 'Please, enter, my Lord...'

She's a beauty with a long golden hair,
The moon and the stars are therein.
So bright she is shining, and fair,
That my staff dropped the precious tear...

25 march 1903