Poets From The Soviet Union

"Oh, eternal mother of mysteries who, in suffering and lust, conceives numerous lives, who creates a thousand twists, a thousand hues, and shades, what is the spring of these eternal rhythms?"

"To you, comrades, near and far, to you, other suns. in other worlds, to all your souls on fire, to all you burning fires, to you burnished spirits who light this untamed darkness called life, and death, to you all who are sacrificed for the sake of light, Greetings."

"Our language is flexible and barbaric, masculine and rough."