Above the church there are blue clouds,
A crows' cry...
And pass — the color of ash and sand —
Revolutionary troops... oh my
Blue-blooded, my kingly angst!
They don't have a face, don't have a name —
Nobody sings!
You got lost, the Kremlin ringing
In this banner forest full of wind.
Lie, Moscow, onto eternal sleep, and pray!
Над церко́вкой — голубые облака,
Крик вороний…
И проходят — цвета пепла и песка —
Революционные войска.
Ох ты барская, ты царская моя тоска!
Нету лиц у них и нет имён, —
Песен нету!
Заблудился ты, кремлёвский звон,
В этом ветреном лесу знамён.
Помолись, Москва, ложись, Москва, на вечный сон!
«I am the Smith of everything. I lay / Lethargic bodies' balances and peers. / The luminary and sublunar spheres / I roll as dice. I calculate. I play. Descriptions pass me by. Equations stay. / Behind your back I am; as heartbeat near. / Demonic anger's burning in the gears — / I rule...»
«Dethroned, to my substance-bound trap / I nose-dived, a higher will's transgressor. / A beam of joy decays to pain no lesser / Refracted by the nature's carnal sap. All winds a-nest a rose in my lap. / But every tone suffers its suppressor / In every beat — so should I still confess for...»
«Busy day turns into evening, / Glowing coal is lit. / City streets gusted with stifling, / Rowdy bodily heat. Smooth as a song, off the ground, / Far away, out of sight / Counterforts pencil out / Into the lightways of night. Into blue arches' embraces, / Into star diamond dust / G...»
«O violet storms, O lightning throws, / You are a shade of diamond white! / Two stars of amethyst - two Roses / Shine from the empyrean height. May crimson fire of blood be fierce, / May rubies glow at grapevine yards; / I pray to violet rays that pierce / The two eternal Roses' hearts. ...»