Your fingers smell of incense

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Your fingers smell of incense,
And lashes sleeping sorrow.
Nothing now we do not need,
No one now is not bad.

And when the messenger of Spring
You go to the blue edge,
The Lord Himself on white stairs
Will lead you into the bright heaven.

Whispers deacon haired,
For the bow has a bow
And a sparse beard sweeps
Centuries of dust from the icons.

Your fingers smell of incense,
And eyelashes sleeping sorrow.
Nothing now we do not need,
No one now is not bad.

A. Vertinsky 1916

Comments (1)

  1. new john lewis song 2012…

    Your fingers smell of incense | NaProsvet.com – The Art of iPhoneography…

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