Let the flowers sprout again, They cling to your love. Yes, we gently rustle and ask, For the dawn to come sooner. We cannot bear the darkness, And we've been suffering in it for several years. Let these fragile lines Awaken your sources. We ask this with every settled foggy dew. So that you would give us the truth, and drive away the lies. With your generosity, we blossom and thrive, And after the light is gone - we sadly wither. We want to feel your care, your warmth! We believe that the best in people has not gone anywhere. This poem was written by me - an ordinary person from the Russian Federation. Absolutely ordinary. I live in an ordinary backwater, where the internet almost constantly doesn't work. But when in the evenings I do manage to get the internet to work, I turn on Meduza to listen and watch. And somewhere deep inside, I still tremblingly await when everything in my country will change for the better. All my plans for the future have already almost collapsed and shattered against a harsh reality, which was made harsh not by my will. But reality is not a constant, it can be changed, it always could be, which means - my plans for a happy life can still come true, there is hope and *you* preserve this hope.