Real tenderness can't be confused, It's quiet and can't be heard.

Now no one will listen to songs. The prophesied days have begun. Latest poem of mine, the world has lost its wonder, Don't break my heart, don't ring out.

A loss, but who still mourns the breath of one woman, or laments one wife? Though my heart never can forget, how, for one look, she gave up her life.

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.

There is a sacred, secret line in loving which attraction and even passion cannot cross.

Rising from the past, my shadow Is running in silence to meet me.