After plodding year after year
through towns in an alien land,
we have ground enough to despair –
and despair is where we must end.
For despair is our final refuge –
as if, midwinter, we had come
from Vespers in a nearby church,
through Russian snow, to our home.
by Георгий Владимирович Иванов (Georgii Vladimirovich Ivanov)
by Robert Chandler