I
Day kerosene; in blue dress
Whirling ran Guadalquivir,
And do not care about,
What is beneath it some peace,
For the happiness of alien, full evil,
Luminary flowed south,
carelessly, lush and light;
But in a monastery prison
Playful beam does not pass through;
What a joy to one b
There he offered, if I knew;
chapter bowing, in temnitse he
I sat a young hermit,
Spanish native and soul;
Such was the rock! - what for, for what,
I did not know and could not know anybody;
But the crime charged,
He was not looking for an excuse;
He knew the people and knew the law ...
And I do not expect anything from them.
But here on the steep stairs
sound moves, I opened the door,
And the old man decrepit and gray
He went to prison - what is now?
With regret and hi
Ago, who die in the years color?
