×åãî áîÿëèñü — òî ïðèøëî —
Íî ìåíüøå ñòàë íàø ñòðàõ —
Áîÿçíüþ äîëãîþ îíî
Îïðàâäàíî äëÿ íàñ —
Óìåùåíà — Òðåâîãà —
Óìåùåíà — Ïå÷àëü —
Çíàòü òÿãîñòíåé, ÷òî áûòü òîìó —
×åì çíàòü, ÷òî åñòü ñåé÷àñ.
Æäàòü íà ïðåäåëå Óòðî
Ïóãàþùåãî äíÿ —
Óæàñíåé, ÷åì ñóùåñòâîâàòü
 íàñòàâøåì äíå âñåãäà.
While we were fearing it, it came —
But came with less of fear
Because that fearing it so long
Had almost made it fair —
There is a Fitting — a Dismay —
A Fitting — a Despair
'Tis harder knowing it is Due
Than knowing it is Here.
The Trying on the Utmost
The Morning it is new
Is Terribler than wearing it
A whole existence through.