The moon is the tongue
In the bell of the sky.
The homeland's my mother,
А Bolshevik am I.
Hail the universal
Brotherhood of man!
That's why with my verse
For your death I give thanks.
Strong, tough and healthy,
To hasten your doom
The blue bell of heaven
I strike with the moon.
Countrymen, brothel's,
My song is for you.
Through the mist I can hear it,
The wonderful news.
2
Небо — как колокол,
Месяц — язык,
Мать моя — родина,
Я — большевик.
Ради вселенского
Братства людей
Радуюся песней я
Смерти твоей.
Крепкий и сильный,
На гибель твою
В колокол синий
Я месяцем бью.
Братья-миряне,
Вам моя песнь.
Слышу в тумане я
Светлую весть.
«Inimitably lies life: / Above waiting, above a lie... / But by the trembling of all veins / You may recognize: Life! (Why that in rye you lie!) — heat, wave... / Like in the rye you lie: ringing, blue... / Blather — through honeysuckle — hundred veins... / Be joyful! I was calle...»
«Fifteen boys and maybe more, / or feuer than fifteen, maybe, / said to me / in frightened voices: / "Let's go to a movie or the Museum of Fine Arts." / "I haven't time." / Fifteen boys presented me with snowdrops. / Fifteen boys in broken voices / said to me: / "Ill never stop lovi...»
«For how long will you keep in hiding / Behind the fog, ye Russian star, / Or will you stay forever priding / In stark delusions, false, bizarre? / / Could it be true, your shining glory / Would scatter like a shooting star, / When faced with gazes, greedy, gory, / So keen to reach y...»
«In the calm night, in late summer, / How the stars grow blush in heaven! / Under their gloomy light rays / Sleepy wheatfields ripen, heaving... / How their golden waves are shining / In the calmness of the night, / They are drowsy, eerie silent, / Whitened by the bright moon light... /...»