Refracting the motions of movements
Onto a page, catching the motives
And meanings in impossible ways,
In beautiful lines the poem
Breathes the breaths
Of its poet
down another living spine.
For the great tragedies
of sweet Russia
cut deep into his chest
And bravely,
Never could he
Rest
till its wounds were healing
And his nation reeling
Beneath his voice,
Forever Blest.
***