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