«I Smells like burning. For four weeks now / The dry ground on the swamplands bakes. / Today even birds did not sing songs / And the aspen-tree does not shake. Sun has stopped in divine displeasure / Easter rain did not pelt fields hard. / A one-legged passerby came here / And alone sai...»
«That voice, with great quietude arguing, / Had a victory over her. / In me still, like song or woe, / Is last winter before the war. She was whiter than Smolny Cathedral / More mysterious than summer garden at noon / We didn't know that in parting sadness / We'd be looking back soon.»
«To say goodbye we don't know — / It's already nearing night, / We are walking shoulder to shoulder, / You are pensive and I am quiet We'll walk into church, we'll witness / The singing, the wedding, the cross, / Not seeing each other, we'll exit.... / Why are things not working for us...»
«You won't hear about him any longer, / You won't hear about him in the wind, / In the mournful fire-consumed Poland / His grave you will not find. May your spirit be still and peaceful, / There will be no losses now: / He is new warrior of God's army, / Do not be about him in sorrow. I...»