Valery Bryusov
The Stonehewer

— Stonehewer, stonehewer, whitely arrayed,
What art thou building? For whom?
— Ho, do not baulk us intent on our trade, —
From our building a prison will loom.

— Stonehewer, stonehewer, trowel in hand,
Who then will sob in these walls?
— Not you, nor your brother, rich man, understand,
For theft to your lot never falls.

— Stonehewer, stonehewer, who without sleep
Will abide there long hours of the night?
— Maybe my son will, — he toils for his keep.
And such is the close of our plight.

— Stonehewer, stonehewer, then will he think
Of them who laid bricks here of yore!
— Ho, beware! Beneath ladders from jests you should shrink...
This we ourselves know, give o'er!

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Note: This is a very inadequate translation of a poem, the precise style of which is extremely difficult to reproduce.

Translated by Paul Selver