The secret of secrets is inside me again.
You will hear thunder and remember me, and think: she wanted storms.
Courage: Great Russian word, fit for the songs of our children's children, pure on their tongues, and free.
Your voice is wild and simple. You are untranslatable Into any one tongue.
This cruel age has deflected me, like a river from this course. Strayed from its familiar shores, my changeling life has flowed into a sister channel. How many spectacles I've missed: the curtain rising without me, and falling too. How many friends I never had the chance to meet.
It is unbearably painful for the soul to love silently.