Time, why do you twist? Twist everything. All, that had gone, becomes unlike, Approximate. All what remains - it is not life at all, Just form and substance. But life, it’s still inscrutable, As thousands years behind, As thousands years ahead. How not to twist myself, To tell the truth, Which can be still untrue? And how to find the mirror of Unthinkable, To prove to you, o Time, that I exist, despite of all? English translation by A. Besedin