Oh, if there weren’t deceiving any more And darkness weren’t pretend to be a white! – The sacred dream lives in the depth of heart, In every line, it flutters and implores. My voice was not as loud as a brass… Maybe, you, men, don’t understand me now? The time will come – and tired of your fuss, You’ll start to make with quiet words your vow. Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, May, 2001