No wonder I was afraid to open
In nepogodnuyu midnight window.
As of old, led poison,
That hope has been fully.
Duma will still hurt
In nepogodnoy midnight mist,
But prayer the world burn
And lurking in the land.
In my unceasing prayer,
Under the warring force your,
I store my thoughts
Withhold from the people and animals.
1 April 1901
