Текст песни Анна Ахматова - все мы бражники здесь, блудницы

We are all the brahniks here, the harlot,
How sad together to us!
On the walls of flowers and birds
Languages on the clouds.

You smoke a black tube,
So strange smoke over it.
I put a narrow skirt,
To seem still slimming.

Forever clogged windows:
What is there, frost or thunderstorm?
On the eyes of a cautious cat
Like your eyes.

Oh, how my heart whips!
Not a mortal waiting?
And the one that is still dancing,
Certainly will be in hell.
January 1, 1913.