No word about love! But I'm mute it about -
My larynx, long ago, had lost its nightingales.
There're just the fire flames with empty skies around,
No word about love - e'en if the moonlight reigns.
I've used to keep the moon o'er my head till the morning -
To bear my nightly toils, to wake my deepest thought,
But this moonlight looks for the end of all adoring,
And our Arbat is spread into a white dunes' lot.
She's prattling about love - my sister poet-singer -