after the evening rain

sip the nectar soup
in a sweet cup of a poem
in a silent room
while the pouring rain
beating on the rooftops O
listen to its rhythms
early in the morn
behold Aurora climbing
the blue horizon


And here's another fragment:

drizzles drifting
the winds brushing the leaves
and my midnight locks


i have never known it
too audible and too euxine
since i last heard of summer


In the News: A Great Writer's Apprenticeship
While many great Russian writers of the 19th century had family fortunes to back their literary inclinations, Anton Chekhov had no such luck. In the early 1880s, as a young medical student at Moscow University, he supported himself and his family by writing hundreds of short stories for popular Moscow and St. Petersburg magazines...Full Article

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