Author of quotes: Vladimir Ivanovich Narbut

Dew - like beads on canvas,
The barns are frozen at the outskirts...
But under forest in the blue
Flashed the heavenly pilgrim.
And to the fields flowed
From the heights of silver thread:
Thin and warm the dream of the earth
And unsteady responsive rustle in the corn...
Late - score quail
And the night dies deep chest
And remove with a damp brow
Bandage death in solitude...
And this red rusty knife
Hand invisible sliding,
Oh night, delight you will find -
There, at the outskirts, have avinav!..