No, Not Under The Vault Of Another

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.

As The Future Ripens In The Past, So The Past Rots In The Future -- A Terrible Festival Of Dead Leaves.

Though You Are Three Times More Beautiful Than Angels, Though You Are The Sister Of The River Willows, I Will Kill You With My Singing, Without Spilling Your Blood On The Ground. Not Touching You With My Hand, Not Giving You One Glance, I Will Stop Loving You, But With Your Unimaginable Groans I Will Finally Slake My Thirst. From Her, Who Wandered The Earth Before Me, Crueler Than Ice, More Fiery Than Flame, From Her, Who Still Exists In The Ether— From Her You Will Set Me Free.

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

We Aged A Hundred Years, And This Happened In A Single Hour: The Short Summer Had Already Died, The Body Of The Ploughed Plains Smoked.