O This Air, Intoxicated With Sedition
O this air, intoxicated with sedition,
On the black square of the Kremlin.
The agitators rock the teetering world .
It smells of restless poplars.
The waxen facades of the cathedrals,
The thick forest of bells,
As if a tongueless bandit
Had vanished in the stony rafters.
But in the sealed cathedrals,