Maximilian Voloshin
The Old Letters

To A. V. Galshtein

I am fond of tired rustle
Of old letters, distant words...
They keep smell of dying flowers
And the charm of fragrant herbs.

I'm in love with figured script style, —
It holds rustle of dry herbs,
As the sad verse softly whispers
Sketch of swift familiar words.

I adore the sweet allure
Of their weary beauty heed...
These are wilted blooms for sure
Of the sacred Knowledge tree.

Translated by St. Sol