A poem by Alexander Block – Alexandre Block – Alexandr Blok – Александр Блок
(1880-1921)
You are but millions. Our unnumbered nations
Are as the sands upon the sounding shore.
We are the Scythians! We are the slit-eyed Asians!
Try to wage war with us-you’ll try no more!
You’ve had whole centuries. We-a single hour.
Like serfs obedient to their feudal lord,
We’ve held the shield between two hostile powers-
Old Europe and the barbarous Mongol horde.
Your ancient forge has hammered down the ages,
Drowning the distant avalanche’s roar.
Messina, Lisbon-these, you thought, were pages
In some strange book of legendary lore.
Full centuries long you’ve watched our Eastern lands,
Fished for our pearls and bartered them for grain;
Made mockery of us, while you laid your plans
And oiled your cannon for the great campaign.
The hour has come. Doom wheels on beating wing.
Each day augments the old outrageous score.
Soon not a trace of dead nor living thing
Shall stand where once your Paestums flowered before.
O Ancient World, before your culture dies,
Whilst failing life within you breathes and sinks,
Pause and be wise, as Oedipus was wise,
And solve the age-old riddle of the Sphinx.
That Sphinx is Russia. Grieving and exulting,
And weeping black and bloody tears enough,
She stares at you, adoring and insulting,
With love that turns to hate, and hate-to love.
Yes, love! For you of Western lands and birth
No longer know the love our blood enjoys.
You have forgoten there’s a love on Earth
That burns like fire and, like all fire, destroys.
We love cold Science passionately pursued;
The visionary fire of inspiration;
The salt of Gallic wit, so subtly shrewd,
And the grim genius of th German nation.
We know the hell of a Parisian street,
And Venice, cool in water and in stone;
The scent of lemons in the southern heat;
The fuming piles of soot-begrimed Cologne.
We love raw flesh, its color and its stench.
We love to taste it in our hungry maws.
Are we to blame then, if your ribs should crunch,
Fragile between our massive, gentle paws?
We know just how to play the cruel game
Of breaking in the most rebellious steeds;
And stubborn captive maids we also tame
And subjugate, to gratify our needs…
Come join us, then! Leave war and war’s alarms,
And grasp the hand of peace and amity.
While still there’s time, Comrades, lay down your arms!
Let us unite in true fraternity!
But if you spurn us, then we shall not mourn.
We too can reckon perfidy no crime,
And countless generations yet unborn
Shall curse your memory till the end of time.
We shall abandon Europe and her charm.
We shall resort to Scythian craft and guile.
Swift to the woods and forests we shall swarm,
And then look back, and smile our slit-eyed smile.
Away to the Urals, all! Quick, leave the land,
And clear the field for trial by blood and sword,
Where steel machines that have no soul must stand
And face the fury of the Mongol horde.
But we ourselves, henceforth, we shall not serve
As henchmen holding up the trusty shield.
We’ll keep our distance and, slit-eyed, observe
The deadly conflict raging on the field.
We shall not stir, even though the frenzied Huns
Plunder the corpses of the slain in battle, drive
Their cattle into shrines, burn cities down,
And roast their white-skinned fellow men alive.
O ancient World, arise! For the last time
We call you to the ritual feast and fire
Of peace and brotherhood! For the last time
O hear the summons of the barbarian lyre!
A few random poems:
- The Peasant’s Return by William Barnes
- Омар Хайям – Имей друзей поменьше, не расширяй их круг
- Orlando Furioso Canto 14 by Ludovico Ariosto
- Владимир Маяковский – Эй, товарищи! От сбора продналога… (Главполитпросвет №284)
- The most noble bird, wife by Mukeshkumar Raval
- Sonnet 15 poem – John Milton poems
- Hira Singhs Farewell To Burmah
- The Encounter poem – Ezra Pound poems
- Наум Коржавин – Люди пашут каждый раз опять
- To One who Loved not Poetry by Sappho
- Владимир Степанов – Хрюшка
- Love’s Unity poem – Alfred Austin
- The Song of the Cities by Rudyard Kipling
- Roaming in Thought. by Walt Whitman
- Cut Grass by Philip Larkin
External links
Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus
Talking Writing Monster’s Page –
Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh
Poems in English
- Ballade Of Dead Ladies poem – Andrew Lang poems
- Ballade Of Cleopatra’s Needle poem – Andrew Lang poems
- Ballade Of Blind Love poem – Andrew Lang poems
- Ballade Of Autumn poem – Andrew Lang poems
- Ballade Of Aucassin poem – Andrew Lang poems
- Ballade Of Amoureuse poem – Andrew Lang poems
- Ballade Of His Books poem – Andrew Lang poems
- Ballade Of The Dream poem – Andrew Lang poems
- Ballade Of Dead Ladies poem – Andrew Lang poems
- Ballade Of The Dead Cities poem – Andrew Lang poems
- Ballade Of Cleopatra’s Needle poem – Andrew Lang poems
- Ballade Of The Bookworm poem – Andrew Lang poems
- Ballade Of Blind Love poem – Andrew Lang poems
- Ballade Of Autumn poem – Andrew Lang poems
- Ballade Of Aucassin poem – Andrew Lang poems
- Ballade Against The Jesuits poem – Andrew Lang poems
- Auld Maitland poem – Andrew Lang poems
- Annan Water poem – Andrew Lang poems
- Alison Gross poem – Andrew Lang poems
- Aesop poem – Andrew Lang poems
More external links (open in a new tab):
Doska or the Board – write anything
Search engines:
Yandex – the best search engine for searches in Russian (and the best overall image search engine, in any language, anywhere)
Qwant – the best search engine for searches in French, German as well as Romance and Germanic languages.
Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees
Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.
Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.
Parallel Translations of Poetry
The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works
Alexander Blok (1880-1921), also Block, was a Russian poet, writer, publicist, playwright, translator and literary critic. A classic of Russian literature.