Page:Modern Russian Poetry.djvu/146

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Mikhail Kuzmin


Night was done. We rose and after
Washing, dressing,—kissed with laughter,—
After all the sweet night knows.
Lilac breakfast cups were clinking
While we sat like brothers drinking
Tea,—and kept our dominoes.

And our dominoes smiled greeting,
And our eyes avoided meeting
With our dumb lips' secrecy.
"Faust" we sang, we played, denying
Night's strange memories, strangely dying,
As though night's twain were not we.