Alexander Blok
On Kulikovo Field

The river spreads out. It flows, sorrowful, lazy
And washes the banks.
Above the bare clay of the yellow cliff
Haystacks languish on the steppe.

O my Rus! My wife! Our long path
Is painfully clear!
Our path has pierced our breast like an arrow
Of ancient Tatar will.

Our path leads through the steppe, through endless yearning,
Through your yearning, O Rus!
And I do not even fear the darkness
Of night beyond the border.

Let night come. We will speed to our goal, light up
The steppe with campfires.
In the smoky reaches a holy banner will shine
Along with the Khan's steel sabre...

And the battle is eternal! We can only dream of peace
Through blood and dust...
The mare of the steppe flies on and on
And tramples the steppe grass...

And there is no end! the miles and slopes flash by...
Stop!
The frightened thunderheads approach,
The sunset bleeds!

The sunset bleeds! Blood streams from the heart!
Weep, heart, weep.
There is no peace! The mare of the steppe
Flies at full gallop!

Translated by A. Wachtel, I. Kutik and M. Denner