A house watches over the tormented soul
and a lonely grave over which anna\'s dream
and the cossack\'s gallop pass ...
Mound open to all winds
that has no name,no crown .
Here lies the old Russia
with young ever-burning branches,
silent earth and patience of time.
Man planted the tree under he rests .
sap creature ,secular trunk ,
long summer wood ,winter burns ...
Nostalgia for bare spaciousness ,
one day war will end
in the new -found peace ,
the shadows will shed their fatigue
giving grace for salt and bread .
Here no marble domes
no princely vaults
Clay in communion with the solitary genius.
Leon Tolstoi .