The drawn city is sleeping around,
As the blue shadow is washed away...
Anew shadows gather in crowd,
And again the organ goes to play
The Bach's songs, that in Christmas days merry
Open doors to the land so mysterious.
The silent music is haunting, , tormenting
Our soul with its narrow paths...
Heels are striking the blocks of the pavement:
Petersburg, Petrograd, Leningrad.
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In russian:
http: //www.stihi.ru/2010/01/19/3645
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem