Vladimir Nabokov. Masha (№ 311462)

Thundering black of the train, shaking the Windows of the house; filled with mountains of smoke, the ghostly movement of the shoulders, dropping the burden, rising with a flourish, hiding the night sky salinensee; sleek metal fire burned the roof under the moonlight; and resonant the black shadow was awakened under the iron bridge, when it thundered black train, longitudinally squoze paling light. Rumbling drone, wide smoke passed, it seemed, through the house, trembling between the abyss, where gleamed conducted moon nails, rails, and the city street, which crossed a low flat bridge, waiting again another thunder cars. The house was like a Ghost, through which you can stick your hand to wiggle my fingers.