In the shadowed woods where silence reigns,
A breath of frost on the icy plains.
Whispers of sorrow in the biting air,
A tale of loss, beyond compare.

The night conceals a mournful tune,
Underneath the pale and watchful moon.
Echoes of footsteps, now long gone,
Haunting the paths they once walked upon.

Snowflakes fall like tears from the sky,
As the northern winds begin to sigh.
A land of vast and frozen grace,
Holds the memories in its cold embrace.

In this desolate, silent land,
Where time slips through the frozen sand.
Russian death, a whispered breath,
In the stillness, life meets its death.