...A little girl on a clay bench:
cheep-cheep-cheep!..
A dog on a chain.
Something’s buzzing in the steppe.
Her mother runs from the garden.
something’s buzzing in the steppe.
“O, my world, it’s a storm coming!”
something’s buzzing in the steppe.
“No, Momma, it’s not a storm,”
I read about it: “it’s a squadron.”
Mother trembles from terror,
the livestock bellows in the pen...
And the sky swirled
in several hundred circles,
and then returned,
and the buzzing grew distant.
– the buzzing grew distant –
1924