How it is simple to leave life for ever, Without thoughts and pains to end to blaze, But for the Russian poets there was never Given the right for such a blessed death. Most likely, a lead would open Heavens For the winged soul’s non-awaited flight, Or a brute awe, with paws, covered with hairs, – Like out a sponge – press life out the heart. Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, August, 2002