Trees and bushes.
Snow has thawed from the grass
And crosses.
Beneath the spring moon,
Defrosted bones
Kick themselves awake
And wander the graveyard.
Skeletons crawl from
Cramped, slimy holes.
Men in white outfits—
Some women, too.
The men shake hands
Then withdraw in the lunar garden
Where earthly things
Speak like this:
Rustlings. Sighs. Whispers.
Rattling of bones.
But from the depths of an alley
A mournful mumbling can be heard:
“Madam! I’m afraid
I’ve got some bad news for you:
Alas, my body has decayed—
So there is nothing left of me to love!”
1910 by Sasha Chernyi (translated from Russian by me)