S E
Brothers! In the last hour
Of year — after our
Russian land, living in us!
Exactly twelve times
Mug to mug!
After the rabble of honor,
After Taman, after Kuban,
After our Russian Don,
Jordan of old faith... Once more,
Mug to mug!
Comrades!
Alive still is
Mother — Passion - Russia!
Comrades!
Whole still is
In the hearts — Russia!
Brothers! Into the distance look in!
Delvig and Pushkin,
The deeds' and the hearts' crystal...
Gloriously, like steel on steel —
Mug to mug!
Brotherhood's glorious gown —
For our brother town
Prague — till — crunching
Ring out, Bohemian country! Ring,
Mug to mug!
Comrades!
Alive still is
Rumor — physique — steel.
Comrades!
Whole still is
In the hearts — steel.
Brothers! The final moment!
On the border of forest
Disappeared old man...
Tightly — like fang to fang —
Mug to mug!
Voluntary tributes,
Hello, kind abuse!
Still alive is Russian
God! Who believes — stand!
Ring,
Mug to mug!
С. Э.
Братья! В последний час
Года — за русский
Край наш, живущий — в нас!
Ровно двенадцать раз —
Кружкой о кружку!
За почётную рвань,
За Тамань, за Кубань,
За наш Дон русский,
Старых вер Иордань…
Грянь,
Кружка о кружку!
Товарищи!
Жива ещё
Мать — Страсть — Русь!
Товарищи!
Цела ещё
В серд — цах Русь!
Братья! Взгляните в даль!
Дельвиг и Пушкин,
Дел и сердец хрусталь…
— Славно, как сталь об сталь —
Кружкой о кружку!
Братства славный обряд —
За наш братственный град
Прагу — до — хрусту
Грянь, богемская грань!
Грянь,
Кружка о кружку!
Товарищи!
Жива ещё
Ступь — стать — сталь.
Товарищи!
Цела ещё
В серд — цах — сталь.
Братья! Последний миг!
Уж на опушке
Леса — исчез старик…
Тесно — как клык об клык —
Кружкой о кружку!
Добровольная дань,
Здравствуй, добрая брань!
Ещё жив — русский
Бог! Кто верует — встань!
Грянь,
Кружка о кружку!
«For Nadezhda Aleksandrovna Zalshupina Why must life put up with such eccentrics / As every day for a small token / It passes for revue over the abyss / Hurrying from Potsdam as the sun goes down? He passes out roses and mignonettes / From a basket, at the cornerstone that he rents, / Whe...»
«1 In the trading district where a person’s feet / Can hardly step, a fortune-teller’s footsteps go / Stepping through the raging storm, a street / Where men, dead-like, sleep in the snow, — But wait, in the trading district where a per- / son’s feet can hardly step, a fortune-telle...»
«I seem adroit at picking words / As primordial as your words are. / If wrong, — it’s all the same to me, / I’ll go on making errors anyway. I hear patter on wet roofs, and eclogues / That fade from boardwalks and cobblestones. / A certain city, distinct from the first line, / Thri...»
«You have a right, turning out your pockets, / To say: rummage, grope, search. / To me clearer than finding cheese / In a daze, is the fact — morning in March. Trees with fleecy peasant coats / Stand in the half-exposed soil. / Outside the close room, the weight / On the branches seems...»