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Aleksandr Blok - Those Born In Obscure Times
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Those born in obscure times
Do not remember their way.
We, children of Russia`s frightful years
Cannot forget a thing.

Incinerating years!, do you bring tidings 
of madness or of hope?
The days of war, the days of freedom
Have left a bloody sheen on our faces.

There is a muteness - the tocsin bell
Has made us close our lips.
In our hearts, once so ardent,
There is a fateful emptiness.

Let the croaking ravens
Take flight above our deathbed - 
O Lord, O Lord, may those more worthy than us, 
Behold Thy kingdom!
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