As the sun sinks low behind hills, Splashes of crimson paint the sky, The day exhales in gentle sighs, While the night unfolds its cloak, Inviting stars to shimmer bright.
The air cools with a whisper of dreams, And the world lulls into slumber, Yet in the heart of the night, Nature sings her timeless song, In the stillness that accompanies the moon.
- Pāvels Rusovs