For 001: '[Night, a street, a lamp]', by Aleksandr Blok, translated by Dimitri Oblensky
Night, a street, a lamp, a chemist’s shop, a meaningless and dim light. Even if you live for another quarter of a century, everything will be like this. There is no way out. You will die—and start all over again, and everything will be repeated, as of old: the night, the icy ripples on the canal, the chemist’s shop, the street, the lamp.















