By the fireplace

In the streets and in the squares,

darkness rules;

And the ashes in the fire –

going cool.

In the Southern seas are sinking

hundred ships;

And the cranes are groaning, singing

to the shrimps.

Trust me, child, the dark has eaten

all the Suns.

I’m a poet, so, just trust me –

there are none.

If you want, I’ll tell you any


I can be a mask, a poet,

rain or hail.

But the fire will chase the shadows

off the walls;

And the ghosts will leave their chambers,

walking tall.

Anyone will kneel in silence

before thee;

And will throw a purple flower

at your feet.

[This poem is my free interpretation of Alexander Block‘s “In the corner of the sofa”. The translation is by no means accurate, I just wanted to express  the mood this work creates]



  1. Wonderful reading this,,, brings one to that other existence, another world. Thanks, I felt these words echo the spirit of this writer. I hope to make it back to read, and would love to see the original, somewhere, if possible.

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