Into Crimson Dark
Poem By Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Blok
Into crimson dark thou goest,
Thy vast orbits mock the eye.
Small the echo that thou throwest,
Far, I hear thy footfalls die.
Art thou near? too far for greeting?
Lost in topless altitudes?
Shall I wait a sudden meeting
Where sonorous stillness broods?
In the solitude resounding
Distant footsteps echo free.
Is it thou who flamest, bounding
Circles of infinity?