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Halls grew darker

Halls grew darker and somehow faded.

Grates of windows drowned in black.

Every knight, every beautiful lady  Knew the tiding: "The Queen's deadly sick."And the king, very silent and frowned,

Passed the doors, lost of pages and slaves…Every word, that by chance cast around,    Proved the truth of the closing grave.

By the doors of the silent abode  I was crying, while pressing the brace… At the end of the passage

Someone echoed me, hiding his face.

By the doors of the Beautiful Lady I was sobbing, attired in blue…And the stranger of ashen face sadly  Echoed me all my sufferings through.

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Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Blok

Alexander Alexandrovich Blok (28 November 1880 – 7 August 1921) was a Russian lyrical poet, writer, publicist, playwright, translator, literary …
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