Let wails of the stars vanish far in a past, This hasn’t any matter in whole! It flies over Earth in the meteors’ dust – The bard’s ever-jubilant soul. My friends, drink the beautiful wine of the Earth! Don’t cry, dear friends, and don’t mourn: I’ll strike in the night at your window else, Returning to orbits around. Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, March, 2001