Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov — My Home

My home is in every place touched by the sky,

Wherever the sounds of songs are heard,

And every living thing shares my home,

And yet it's not constricting to a poet.

Its roof reaches up into the stars,

And to reach from one wall to another

Requires a lengthy journey, one measured

Not by one's eyes, but by his soul.

One's heart contains a recognition of truth -

That seed of sacred eternity -

Which in a single moment can enclose

A borderless expanse, the flow of centuries.

And my wonderful, almighty home

Was built just for this recognition,

And I am cursed to suffer greatly within,

And only within will I find peace.