The falling is the constant mate of fear, And feel of emptiness is the feel of fright. Who throws us the stones from the height -- And stones here refuse the dust to bear? Once, striding in a ... [+]

Let us praise the twilight of freedom, brothers, the great year of twilight! A thick forest of nets has been let down into the seething waters of night. O sun, judge, people, desolate are the ... [+]

The clock-cricket singing, that's the fever rustling. The dry stove hissing, that's the fire in red silk. The teeth of mice milling the thin supports of life, that's the swallow my daughte ... [+]

Our lives no longer feel ground under them. At ten paces you can't hear our words. But whenever there's a snatch of talk it turns to the Kremlin mountaineer, the ten thick worms his fingers ... [+]