Stones we have, Russia,
Stones to break your teeth,
To batter shut your hunger-widened eyes;
Stones and the silver stab of bayonets,
The skilled jab, the clubbed gun
Of our northern-bred guards: these
We have, Russia. A greeting,
Russia, to you the groper
Struggling out of the pit of centuries,
Uprising from primeval death, groping
To a dazed, uncertain day; a greeting,
Russia, drunken one, drunken with misery-
A greeting with stones!
To you who have known only death till now,
Russia, a welcome to new torture,
To life, to a mad fact of ...