Стихотворение Ф. Ларкина «Идущий» (Going): There is an evening coming in/Across the fields, one never seen before/That lights no lamps./Silken it seems at a distance, yet/When it is drawn up over the knees and breast/lt brings no comfort./Where has the tree gone, that locked/Earth to sky? What's under my hands/That I cannot feel?/What loads my hands down? Русский перевод: Товарищ Андреев — Советский Союз.
