«The senseless years' extinguished mirth and laughter / Oppress me like some hazy morning-after. / But sadness of days past, as alcohol — / The more it age, the stronger grip the soul. / My course is dull. The future's troubled ocean / Forebodes me toil, misfortune and commotion. But no,...»
«Extinguished gaiety of years, which sunk in madness, / Presses on me like a hangover restless. / But in my soul, foregoing pine / Becomes through time still stronger, like a wine. / My way is sad. Predicts me toile and woe – / The sea of future in a wrath and row. But, oh, my friends, I...»
«His eyes are like faded burdock. / He clasps the coins in his hands. / He was a glorious shepherd, / Now he sings of times past. / And in the corner, an old woman / Sheds tears in front of an icon. / She used to be his beloved, / His drunk nectar in a green meadow. / Dry dust coats t...»
«For A. Sakharov / / The storm has passed. Few of us survived. / Many are missing from friendship’s roll call. / I’ve returned to the orphaned region / I haven’t seen in eight years. / / Who should I call to? With whom should I share / The sad joy that I’m still alive? / ...»