Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilev. (№ 156309)

A child I loved large,
Honey-scented meadows,
The woods, the grass dry
And between herbs bycicle horns.
Every dusty roadside Bush
I shouted, "I'm kidding with you
Beat me gently
And you will know who I am!"
Only wild autumn wind,
Presume, stop the game.
Heart was beating even more blessed,
And I believed that I would die.
Not one with my friends
Mother-and-stepmother, burdock,
And beyond the distant skies
Guess suddenly everything.