He started his way, having left the place, where the Law 
had been created, Where there is smouldering cover of 
snow, Where the first ray of fire is piercing the dusk. 
Nobody has chosen the way for the Gods, Having clearing 
the horizon of stinking souls. Dagger, fire and ice yet 
haven't removed The crimson tracery Among hungry curs and 
snakes. Will the chest breathe the air among swirling 
worms? The way to Abyss is close. But even in the abyss 
of destiny We are catching at the edge of Death. And in a 
bright dusk of ravens flocks We are seeking with our 
hands borders of the Universe.