All Has Been Looted, Betrayed, Sold; Black

I Have Long Had This Premonition Of A Bright Day And A Deserted House

I Should Be Proud To Have My Memory Graced, But Only If The Monument Be Placed... Here, Where I Endured Three Hundred Hours In Line Before The Implacable Iron Bars.

How The Miracle Of Our Meeting Shone There And Sang, I Didn't Want To Return From There To Anywhere. Happiness Instead Of Duty Was Bitter Delight To Me. Not Obliged To Speak To Anyone, I Spoke For A Long While. Let Passions Stifle Lovers, Demanding Answers, We, My Dear, Are Only Souls At The Limits Of The World.

Courage: Great Russian Word, Fit For The Songs Of Our Children's Children, Pure On Their Tongues, And Free.

Poems Are My Link With The Times, With The New Life Of My People.