It is cold and wet,
And a bit miserable.
I am walking beside
The Griboedov Canal,
Thinking, idly, that
It is somehow
Wetter and colder
To be near or on the water
In the rain.
I huddle deeper
Inside my coat,
And hold my umbrella
A little more firmly.
Yet the lights beside me
In the buildings
That look onto the canal
Twinkle through the dusk,
And, in a way,
Keep me warm.

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