Along the embankment, along the bridge, along

the whole soul, lined by the rainstorm,

the wind strains point-blank

at the gulf that got wild overnight.

White clouds race under black clouds,

snagging on sparkling spires,

and the flung open river

stirs chains like a shaman.

Oh my soul, freeze in this foul weather,

on the bridges along their railings,

and witch-like stir into me

this night, this north, this water.

There is such womanhood in these splashes

that it will yet lead me to suicide,

and it will suddenly open in the sad Baltic Grail

like an emptiness.

- Leonid Aronzon

Picture: "Out of the Rain, Iran" by Kian Elyassi Bakhtiari (2006).