holiday joyful, great holiday,
Yes, the star of the clouds can not be seen…
You're standing under a wild blizzard,
Rokovaâ, homeland.
for snow, forests, steppes
I can not see your face.
Only Mademoiselle scary sight space,
Incomprehensible vastness without end?
Drowning in a deep snow bank,
I sit down on the fragile sleigh.
Do not rest in the rich tomb
You, poky Finnish Russia!
There prikineshsya you devout,
There's an old woman you prikineshsya,
The voice of prayer, ringing the bell,
For crosses - crosses, baptized…
Only your incense blue and Rosno
Proskvozilo me sometimes other…
Not, not the face of an old man and do not lean
Under Moscow's handkerchief color!
Through prostrations, that candle,
Ektenyi, ektenyi, ektenyi -
Shepotlivye, quiet speech,
Flamed your cheeks…
Farther, farther… The wind rushed,
Black Earth flying wasteland…
Bush road rushed to the wind,
Like Deacon waved orarion…
And there, the river overflowing,
Where they ducked to the ground feather,
Pulls combustible fumes, farther,
Hoods can be heard in the far given…
Or it again - Polovtsian camp
And Tatar lush lining?
Do not fire the Turkish fez
Zabuyanila wild steppe?
Not, no apparent there knyazhyego tightens,
Do not draw Don helmets,
And a great granddaughter Varyag
Klyanet not captured polovetskyy…
Not, there is not twisted by the wind forelocks,
Not pestreyut in the steppes of horsetail…
There blacken smokestacks,
There are groaning factory whistles.
Steppe path - without end, inconclusive,
Steppe, and the wind, and the wind, - and suddenly
plant-bay enclosure,
Cities from shack workers…
On a deserted expanse, in the wild
You're the one, that was, and not so,
New you turned my face,
And another wave dream…
Black coal - underground messiah,
Black coal - is king and groom,
But not scary, bride, Russia,
Voice your rock songs!
coal moans, salt was white and,
And howling iron ore…
Then over the empty steppe on fire
I have a new star America!
12 December 1913
