Sunbeam

I pray to the sunbeam from the window -

It is pale, thin, straight.

Since morning I have been silent,

And my heart - is split.

The copper on my washstand

Has turned green,

But the sunbeam plays on it

So charmingly.

How innocent it is, and simple,

In the evening calm,

But to me in this deserted temple

It's like a golden celebration,

And a consolation.