Ушла. Но гиацинты ждали... -пер. А. Блока

She's gone. But hyacynths were waiting,
And hasn't waked the window's holes,
In light folds of the shawl of woman
The silence in the night was blossoming.
In slanting beams of evening dust -
I know - you will come again
To captivate and to inebriate me thus
With sweet Nil lily's smell.
I'm familiar with such a weak hand,
With whispering and quiet talking,
With languor of a harmonious waist,
With light matte of your shoulders sloping.
And in your name I see- immensity,
The red twilight of your