Retribution

FIRST CHAPTER

nineteenth century, iron,
Truly iron age!
Thee in the darkness of night, starless
Careless people cast!
On the night of speculative concepts,
Materyalistskih small deeds,
Impotent complaints and curses,
Bloodless souls and bodies of weak!
Since you have come to replace the plague
Neyrasteniya, boredom, Spline,
Century rasshibanya foreheads against the wall
economic doctrine,
congresses, banks, federations,
prandial spichey, red words,
century shares, annuities and bonds,
And there is little effective drain,
And half-talents
(So rightly - half!),
Age did not salons, and living,
not Recamier, - but just give…
Century bourgeois wealth
(Growing unseen evil!).
Under the sign of equality and fraternity
Here ripened dark deeds…
And the man? - He lived limply:
He was not - machines, like in fog,
"Life" so bloodless and bezbolno
tortured spirit, more than ever…
but the, who moved, controlling
Puppets of all countries, –
he knew, what have you been doing, nasılaya
humanist fog:
There, in gray and rotten fog,
withered flesh, spirit goes out,
And an angel of sacred self abuse,
It seemed, I flew from us:
There - blood feuds decide
diplomatic mind,
There - new guns interfere
Come together face-to-face with the enemy,
There - instead of courage - cheekiness,
And instead of exploits - "psychosis",
And eternally quarreling heads,
And a long convoy gromozdkóy
Volóchit for a team,
Headquarters, intendantov, dirt cursing,
Rozka gornist - Roland Horn
And slam - furazhkoy replaced…
That age a lot of cursing
And do not get tired to curse.
And flee his sadness?
He was creeping softly - but hard to sleep…

Twentieth Century… still homeless,
Even more frightening darkness of life
(Blacker and huge
Shadow wing Luciferian).
Fires smoky sunset
(Prophecies about our day),
Comets formidable and tailed
Terrible ghost in the sky,
Relentless end Messina
(Natural forces are not overcome),
And the relentless roar of the machine,
Devises destruction night and day,
Consciousness terrible deceit
All previous small thoughts and beliefs,
And the first takeoff of an airplane
In the desert areas of the unknown…
And turning away from life,
And her crazy love,
And the passion, and hatred for the fatherland…
And black, earth's blood
promises us, inflating the veins,
Destroying all borders,
unprecedented changes,
unprecedented riots…
Well, human? - For Reva stood,
In the fire, in powder smoke,
What gave fire
Open your eyes?
What - incessant grinding machines?
Zachem - propeller, grow, cuts
Cold mist - and empty?

Now - for me, my reader,
In the capital of the north sick,
A remote Finnish Breg!

Already autumn seventy-eighth
It falls short of the old age.
In Europe, the work goes well,
And here - is still in the swamp
It looks bleak dawn…
But in mid-September
In that year,, look, how much sun!
Where are people coming down from the morning?
And all the way to the gates
Peas spilling cheers,
And Zabalkansky, and Hay
teeming with police, the crowd,
Scream, crush, swearing areal…
For most city limits,
Where the golden-lit
Novodevichy convent,
fences, slaughter and wasteland
Before Moscow Gate, –
people wall, dark carriages,
Proletka, droshky and strollers,
the sultan, Ķivere and helmets,
Queen, courtyard and the upper light!
And before touched the queen,
The autumn sun dust
Troops marching procession
From the borders of the land of others…
go, as if a parade.
Or not to leave a trail
A recent camp near Constantinople,
A foreign language and the city?
Behind them - the snowy Balkans,
three Plevna, Shipka and Dubnyak,
unhealed wounds,
and cunning, and not weak enemy…
Vaughn - Pavlovians, out - Grenadiers
The dusty pavement go;
S faces strict, breast sulfur,
George glitters here and there,
We cut their battalions,
But surviving in combat
Now under the ragged banner
He bowed his head…
End of the heavy campaign,
unforgettable days!
They came home,
They are - among his people!
The meet their own people?
Today - forgetting the past,
Today - serious vision
War - let the wind will spread!
And in the solemn hour of return
They forgot about everything:
Lost life and death of a soldier
Under enemy fire,
nights, for many - without dawn,
cold, mute firmament,
Lay in wait somewhere -
And death overtakes,
Disease, fatigue, pain and hunger,
The whistle of bullets, dreary howl core,
Zaldevshih lodgements cold,
Negreyuschy campfire,
And even - the burden of eternal strife
Among staff and combatant,
AND (can, more bitter than all the other)
Forgot quartermasters machinations…
Or have not forgotten, may be?
Them with bread and salt are waiting trays,
They will talk speech,
On them - flowers and cigarettes
Flying from the windows of all the houses…
Yes, difficult matter of - holy!
Look: each soldier
Bayonet wearing a bouquet of flowers!
At the battalion commanders -
Flowers on saddles, saddlecloth,
The buttonholes faded uniforms,
The horses and bangs in the hands of.

All poems of Alexander Blok