Where firs by snow all silvered stand,
Where palms grow in the golden south,
From home to home, from land to land,
His words pass on from mouth to mouth.
On shores both near and far away,
By more than one new generation
In all five continents, today
His name is held in veneration.
He is enthroned in peoples' hearts,
And is beloved in every clime.
In one, though, he commenced his path
Unheard of since the birth of time.
A land where grief and fury reigned,
Where peals of brewing thunder rolled,
And where he loved his native tongue,
Its mines of eloquence untold.
He loved her skies, her steppes so vast,
Her mounting wind of liberty...
What can be nobler than to love
One's native land as Lenin did.
Под сосен снежным серебром,
Под пальмой юга золотого,
Из края в край, из дома в дом
Проходит ленинское слово.
Уже на дальних берегах,
Уже не в первом поколенье,
Уже на всех материках
И чтут и любят имя: Ленин!
В сердцах народных утвержден,
Во всех краях он стал любимым,
Но есть страна одна, где он
Свой начал путь неповторимый,
Где были ярость, ночь, тоска,
И грохот бурь в дороге длинной,
Где он родного языка
Любил могучие глубины,
И необъятный небосклон,
И всё растущий вольный ветер...
Любить Россию так, как он, —
Что может быть святей на свете!
«You aren’t yet dead, and you are not as yet alone, / As long as with your beggared lover / By joy of wide expanses of the plains you’re thrown / As dark and cold and blizzards cover. In lavish destitution and in mighty dearth / Then live in peace and consolation. / For blessed then th...»
«The drifting smoke was melting in the frosty air, / And I, oppressed by freedom’s sadness, lingering there, / Wished only to ascend to cold and quiet singing, / To disappear for ever, but my fate was bringing Me down the snowy street upon the evening hour / Where dog was barking at the su...»
«We’re unable to live, for this country’s absurd, / At ten paces’ remove are our voices unheard, / But opinion, when muttered, half-spoken, / Kremlin highlander’s spectre’s awoken. / Podgy fingers he has that are meaty like worms, / But his speech is deliberate, its measure confir...»
«When red October’s dim time-server for us made / A yoke of bloodshed and of malice, / And armoured car, aggressive, then enforced blockade / And loomed an apish gunner, callous — And “Crucify Kerensky!” irate soldier brayed, / And angry mob on cue applauded: / Then Pilate let them...»