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They address you on the streets, on your way back from work.

Long fingers grip your shoulder, by the Moskva river, they grab your hand.

You are arrested.

You will be coming with us.

Don't talk, don't ask.

You are arrested, – you belong to us, your time to talks comes late, r not first nor last.

We want you to tell us something

We want you to tell us all

More sweat from your face dripping

The cold place with the coldest halls

Stand straight, do not sit, don't sleep and open your eyes.

The Cold cells of Lubyanka, where the spirits of Russia die.