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Millions are you. We are darkness, darkness, and darkness.
Try, fight us!
Yes, we are Scythians! Yes, Asians - we,
With slanted and greedy eyes!
For you - a century, for us - a single hour.
We, as obedient serfs,
They held a shield between two hostile races
Mongols and Europe!
Century, century your old forge hammered
And he drowned out thunder, avalanches,
And a wild tale was a failure for you
And Lisbon, and Messina!
You have been looking to the East for hundreds of years
Coping and melting our pearls,
And you, sneering, thought only a term,
When to instruct the cannons of the vents!
Here - the time has come. Wings hit trouble,
And every day the insults multiply,
And the day will come - there will be no trace
From your Pestums, perhaps!
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Oh, the old world! Until you perish,
While you languish with sweet flour,
Stop, wise as Oedipus,
Pre Sphinx with an ancient mystery!
Russia - the Sphinx. Rejoicing and mourning,
And drenching with black blood,
She looks, looks, looks at you.
And with hatred, and with love! ...
Yes, so to love, as our blood loves,
None of you have loved for a long time!
Forgot you, that in the world there is love,
Which burns and kills!
We love everything - and the heat of cold numbers,
And the gift of divine visions,
We clearly understand everything - and the acute Gaulish meaning,
And the gloomy Germanic genius ...
We remember everything - the streets of Paris hell,
And the Venetian coolness,
Lemon groves are a distant fragrance,
And Cologne is a smoky group ...
We love flesh - and its taste, and color,
And stuffy, mortal flesh smell ...
Are we guilty if your skeleton crunches?
In the heavy, gentle paws?
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This is not your personal journal
sage
>>
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We used to get used to the bridle
Playing horses zealous,
Breaking the horses with heavy sacrums,
And pacify the slaves of the obstinate ...
Come to us! From the horrors of war
Come to the peaceful arms!
Before it's too late - the old sword in the sheath,
Comrades! We will become - brothers!
And if not - we have nothing to lose,
And we are treacherous!
Century, centuries you will be damned
Ill later offspring!
We are wide in the wilds and forests
Before Europe, prigozhey
Let's part! We will turn to you
His Asian mug!
Go all, go to the Urals!
We clear the place of battle
Steel machines, where the integral breathes,
With the Mongolian wild horde!
But we ourselves are no longer a shield to you,
From now on we will not enter the battle ourselves,
We'll see how the mortal battle is boiling,
With his narrow eyes.
We will not move when the fierce Hun
In the pockets of corpses will fumble,
Burn the city, and in the church drive the herd,
And the meat of white brothers to fry! ...
For the last time - come to your senses, old world!
At the fraternal feast of work and peace,
The last time for a bright fraternal feast
Cries the barbaric lyre!
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