The secret of secrets is inside me again.

It was a time when only the dead smiled, happy in their peace.

The word dropped like a stone on my still living breast. Confess: I was prepared, am somehow ready for the test.

I seem to myself, as in a dream, Am accidental guest in this dreadful body.

Courage: Great Russian word, fit for the songs of our children's children, pure on their tongues, and free.

And you know, I agree to everything: I will condemn, I will forget, I will give comfort to the enemy, Darkness will be light and sin lovely.

And it seemed to me that there were fires Flying till dawn without number And I never found out things-those Strange eyes of his-what colour? Everything trembling and singing and Were you my enemy or my friend, Winter was it or summer?