My foes will be not by my perish consoled – They won’t have a reason to pour the false tears. The hook, I’m to hang on, still isn’t in a board, It’s not even forged, its ore lies in the earth. I’ll stand up above my life’s bottomless crater, Above all its fears and iron-made pines… I know and remember so much… I’m a fighter. I’m too of some kind of the horrible price... Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, March, 2002