Somehow we got through the miles of Moscow..., by Robert Lowell Somehow we got through the miles of Moscow, /
left the Sparrow Hills, and found the small, familiar church. /
Our open sled was filled with straw,...
Upon a horse-sleigh laid to brim with straw..., by Ilya Shambat Upon a horse-sleigh laid to brim with straw /
And covered barely with hides and birch, /
We rode around the lumbering Moscow /
From Sparrow Hill...