X. AT. Stepanov
In a wooden house, in the night
bezzashtitnosty related otreshenyyu,
Both are hidden in the candle flame,
to become a target at once.
Fear is growing before our eyes, and the window
dims, like a cloud in July,
reducing the light spot
to the size of the bullet hole.
Silence on the site, темно,
and silence do not know for a year,
whether it feeds fear,
whether the heart inspires freedom.