NIGHT AND MORNING
M. L. MIKHAILOV
We shall be buried on an eve stifling and close, ’neath cloudy skies;
Lightnings will play, the river roar, the forest utter moans and sighs.
The night will be a night of storm; mighty in their stupendous power,
Rain, fire, and thunder will burst forth from those dread clouds that darkly lower.
But o’er our graves, foretelling that a bright day shall be given,
The dawn will set a rainbow fair, spanning the whole wide heaven.
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