In the shadow of Russian death’s embrace,
The whispers of time gently trace,
Through fields where echoes of history lay,
Waiting for the dawn of a new day.

Cold winds howl through the barren land,
Carrying tales of a once mighty hand,
Where dreams were woven in twilight’s thread,
Now dance with the ghosts of the unsaid.

Frozen rivers hold secrets untold,
Beneath their surface, the past unfolds,
A tapestry of lives entwined,
In the silent embrace of the resigned.

Yet through the darkness, a flicker of light,
Guides the weary through the endless night,
Where hope and despair dance a delicate waltz,
In the shadow of Russian death’s vaults.