In eternity, where the stream of light is running
There are rotating slowly wheels of time
Which is weaving on the gold machine
Its multicolored carpet. Our invisible engine
Is setting in motion the driving belts
Capricious weaving pattern is blinking
And always counterbalances the weight
The one who will combine ripened crop in a bunch
Will measure everything and bless
The darkness entangles and fights us down
Only sometimes the lightning for an instant
From gloom will snatch out a piece of pattern
And we, have woken up from non-existence
Some fragment see: Chimeric
Frightening or clear silhouettes of life
We hold only grains in a hand
We don’t see the groves, which will grow out of them
And will rustle with green tops
We, begotten by an awful hard times
Only drink a bitter turbid liquid