Look at what they have done to Vinokurov:
When you try at the rip cord.
And the parachute does not open
And there beneath you lie endless forests
And it is plain that you will not be saved.
There is no longer anything to cling to
No longer anyone to be met on the way
Spread your arms softly, like a bird
And enfolding space, fly.
There is no way back, no time to go balmy
And only one solution: the simplest
For the first time to compose yourself
And to fall with the universal void in your embrace.
When you’re pulling the ring that is usually spared,
And your last parachute is not working at all,
And the endless of woods under you is expanded,
— And it’s clear, that none would save you from the fall,
And there’s not such a thing to hang on – not a single –
And there’s nothing to meet in the boundless sky,
— Then spread out your arms very wide, like an eagle,
And, embracing expansion, just fly.
There’s nowhere to back to, no time to get balmy,
And the only way out could simply be sought:
First in your own life to behave very calmly,
And to fall coupled with emptiness of world.