Quotes from Andrei Andreyevich Voznesenski

I am Goyaof the bare field, by the enemy's beak gougedtill the craters of my eyes gapeI am griefI am the tongueof war, the embers of citieson the snows of the year 1941I am hunger

They carried him not to bury him:They carried him down to crown him….The poet flourished here, disheveled,Who would not bow before votive lampsBut to the common spade.