In the village of God does not live in the corners,
thought scoffers, and everywhere.
He sanctifies the roof and utensils
and honestly door halves.
In the village he - in excess. In iron
He cooks on Saturdays lentils,
He was dancing sleepily in the fire,
winks at me, eyewitnesses.
He puts a fence. Throws
the damsel by the forester. And as a joke
arranges eternal undershoot
Buster, shoot at a duck.
The possibility of watching all this,
listening to the whistling of the autumn,
the only, generally, grace,
available in the village atheist.
6 June 1965
* dated 1964 в SP. - WITH. AT.
