No, I'm not Byron, but the other
Selected one, though unknown,
Like he was, I'm also a wanderer,
Kicked by the world, with russian soul!
The earlier I have begun, the earlier - the end,
My mind will thus produce few work;
In soul's mine, as in the ocean,
My broken hopes're vainly loaded.
Who could your secrets to reveal,
The gloomy ocean? Who tries
To tell the throng my inner wills?
That will be mine, or God, or none!