Thirty years now Russia’s lived in fetters,
in Magadan, in Kolyma —
but the Russia that will live for ever
is the one now dying in Kolyma.
Россия тридцать лет живёт в тюрьме.
На Соловках или на Колыме.
И лишь на Колыме и Соловках
Россия та, что будет жить в веках.
Всё остальное — планетарный ад:
Прокля́тый Кремль, злощастный Сталинград.
Они достойны только одного —
Огня, испепелящего его.
«I would forget about courage, winning, / About glory in the grievous land / When I looked up to see your portrait beaming / In an uncomely frame I had at hand. / / The time had come and you left home for ever. / I threw the cherished ring into the night. / You gave your destiny...»
«At night when troubles settle down / And darkness hides the streets and lanes — / There"s so much music all around, / God sends us such amazing strains! / / What is the tempest, if your flowers, / Adorn the blooming garden-bed! / What are the bitter tears of ours, / If sunse...»
«to N. Goon I haven't lived so long as you... / I've sung while you've been down and out. / A spirit came out of the blue / To show the sea of ample sound... / / Your soul is chained stirred by the blast / Of storm and whirlwind wailing there, / While mine is free, as fine as...»
«You were the fairest of all, no denying, / Please, don"t curse me and, pray, don't disgrace! / My train, like the song of a gipsy, is flying, / Like those irrevocable days... / / What I loved is gone by, disappeared... / Up ahead is a hidden way... / Unforgettable, blessed and rever...»