The first ray -- as the blessing of the Lord --Across the face of the beloved did creep,Who, sleeping, went a little pale,And then again more tightly went to sleep.It seemed that warmth of ray of sunAppeared to him just like a kiss.And long with these my lips I have not touchedThe tan strong shoulder or the dear lips.And now, the deceased spirits in my longDisconsolate wandering along the way,I am now flying toward him as a songAnd I caress him with a morning ray.

Whether to look for you on earth --I don't know if you're dead or you live --Or about you in the eveningI should for you, departed, grieve.All is for you: and the daily prayerAnd the sleeplessness' swooning flameAnd the white flock of my poemsAnd my eyes' blue violent flame.No one was dearer to me, no one,No one left me this bereft,Not even he who betrayed me to torment,Not even he who caressed, then left.

Did not scold me, did not praise me,Like friends and like enemies.Only left his soul to meAnd then said, "Now keep in peace."And one thing worries me so:If this moment he will die,God's archangel will come to meFor his soul from the sky.How then will I hide her so,How to hide it from God's eyes?She, the soul, that cries and sings soMust be in His paradise.

For this gloomy beast within my breast - A heart. But the thing is,We've all had to learn not to sleep for three years.In the morning we shall find outWho has died in the night.

You will not live again.You will not rise from the snowTwenty-eight holes from the bayonetFive from the gun.I have made a shroud for my friend,Sad cloth.She loves, loves bloodThis Russian earth.

It was a time when only the dead smiled, happy in their peace.