Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilev. (№ 149560)

I do not live flowers
The beauty of them for a moment, I deceived,
Stand up another day or so, and will wither,
I do not live flowers.
And birds don't live here,
Only hohlasa sorrowful and dull,
And in the morning - ball of fluff...
Even birds don't live here.
Only books in eight rows,
Silent, heavy Toms,
Guard centuries of languor,
If the teeth in eight rows.
I sold them bookseller,
Remember was and old and poor...
...Traded for cursed cemetery
I sold it to a bookseller.