Home quite by chance.

...
And I sit
on
Ivan's church
feeling terrible.
The Kremlin towers are like spears.
You can just see Moscow's windows.
Cheery
with their Christmas trees.
A wave broke
over the Kremlin's caverns
now singing
and now
a Christmas billow of bells,
Moscow's holy day
streams down
from the Terek and the Daryal
over the seven hills.
My hair rises on end
I strain like a croaking frog
and I am afraid
and I take just one step back
and this old
Christmas
terror
swarms round me
- like on Myasnitskaya —
all over again.