Poems Are My Link With The Times,

How The Miracle Of Our Meeting Shone There And Sang, I Didn't Want To Return From There To Anywhere. Happiness Instead Of Duty Was Bitter Delight To Me. Not Obliged To Speak To Anyone, I Spoke For A Long While. Let Passions Stifle Lovers, Demanding Answers, We, My Dear, Are Only Souls At The Limits Of The World.

The Secret Of Secrets Is Inside Me Again.

I Seem To Myself, As In A Dream, Am Accidental Guest In This Dreadful Body.

I Am Not One Of Those Who Left The Land To The Mercy Of Its Enemies. Their Flattery Leaves Me Cold, My Songs Are Not For Them To Praise.

Courage: Great Russian Word, Fit For The Songs Of Our Children's Children, Pure On Their Tongues, And Free.