Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
The Pine Of Reminiscence
I see always the page that is filled on
By the muddy-black blotches of ink.
I am able from men to be hidden,
But to where could I run from night’s brink?
All that live has become so distant,
That didn’t come – so perfectly watched,
And forgotten lines merge from that instant
Till next dawn into many a blotch.
I’m all there – in impossible answers,
Where the letters of dreams loom in sight…
I like children to be in a house –
And these children to cry in the night.
poem
by
Innokenty Fedorovich Annensky
solid border
dashed border
dotted border
double border
groove border
ridge border
inset border
outset border
no border
blue
green
red
purple
cyan
gold
silver
black