Black hems smoulder on the ground The wind scatters the coals Burn Koste-yo-yor Burn! Ah, all the poems have warmed up in my chest The ice is melting Your pain and melancholy will pass My spark will melt them Ah, all the poems have warmed up in my chest The ice is melting Your pain and melancholy will pass Burn, burn, please! Sharp knees Soft thorns Golden flashes Shadows to the moon She is no longer here You smiled I saw you in the dew drops Burn Koste-yo-yor
















