by Michael Yu. Lermontov
The time will come - one Russia's cruel time,
When Tzars's crown'd be declined by crime.
The previous worship will be lost by mob,
And common food then will be blood and Mort.
When wives and children could not be protected
By poor Law, disorderly neglected.
And plague will walk throughout lifeless throng
And hold a shawl for anyone to call
From huts and villages, where it's gone from.
And hunger will torment the land,
And gleam will colour waves of river band.
This day the mighty Man will come.
And once you'll understand by dawn
Why does he hold the Damask sword.
And Damn for you! - your cry and moan
Will cause his laugh, without any cord...
And inside him will live the Dark and Horror.
Obscure raincoat with elevated forehead...
1830
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very telling poem about coming Bolshevik revolution