secret paths, nightly,
By the light of dawn funeral,
Come tortured them,
Above them stand ghouls.
Oveyut ghosts night
Their thoughts and deeds,
And zagniyut still alive
They are too well-fed body.
Their ships in the deep water
Not syschut rusty anchors,
Do not have time to waste dochest
You, bellied priest!
Happy well-fed appearance,
Hide in the dark coffin!
So, we times tells greatness
And rozoperstaya fate!
grave, filled with rot,
Free, Throw a mighty shoulders!
All, all - yes will light dust
Under the sun, not tired to burn!
3 June 1907
