Eh-hey!” the redhead suddenly snatches the tambourine and sweeps off, tapping wildly in a circle. Eyes closed: a white sleepless sun-a white night on the meadow-white columns of smoke swaying over fires…”Eh-ah!”-to whirl herself to death, to whirl out everything, to empty herself – nothing has ever been…Heavy boots are thumping on the floor, beards fly in the wind, the frock-coat tails go flying… hey, get going, faster, faster – a hundred versts an hour! (“The North”)



