Георгий Свиридов
Святый Боже ('Holy God') Зарю бьют ('Dawn Strikes') The dawn beats. From my hand my shabby copy of Dante falls to the ground. On my lips, the half-pronounced verse ceases to shape meaning. - My soul flies far off. - Familiar, everyday living sound, although you often radiate far out, I shrink away - into my silent sense of age. 'Pastoral'