It's getting dark| people went home | the street was empty. The paramedic went to the threshing floor and to the deserted cemetery, with rickety crosses and golobtsy, on which tiny birds with feathers ruffled from the wind sat in different places, not knowing where to lay their heads | over some of the graves lay irregular, large stones | some graves were not even lined with turf, others were ready to be leveled with the ground or were hiding in swaying nettles. On one side of the cemetery stretched a dense, black forest| ahead, over the fields, spreading its wings, the raven fought hard against the wind ... "