“The future has come, and it / transferred; The subject falls, / the violinist comes out, the music does not last, / and the sea is all wrinkled and the face. / But there is no wind. / Someday it, and not-alas- / we, the promenade will overwhelm / and will move under the exclamations of “do not”, / rising crests above the head, / to where you drank your wine, / slept in the garden, dried a blouse, /-destroying the tables, coming mollusk / preparing the bottom.