My spirit is old; and some black lot awaits me
On my long road.
Some dream accurst, inveterate, suffocates me
Still with its load.
So young – yet hosts of dreadful thoughts appal me,
Sick and opprest.
Come! and from shadowy phantoms disenthral me,
Friend. (Alexander Blok)

My spirit is old; and some black lot awaits me On my long road. Some dream accurst, inveterate, suffocates me Still with its load. So young – yet hosts of dreadful thoughts appal me, Sick and opprest. Come! and from shadowy phantoms disenthral me, Friend.

Alexander Blok

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