A.Blok, Factory - Translation (Rus.) Poem by Lyudmila Purgina

In neighbour house windows're yellow.
In evening time - in evening time
The pensive bolts are creaking plaintively,
The people tend to go inside.

And gates are locked before the crowd,
High on the wall - high on the wall
Someone in black is staying motionless
And counting the people all.

I hear all from my top point:
He's calling them by copper voice
To bow their backs and lower,
Exhausted too in their force.

They'll come and rove within the building,
Will load sacks on their backs.
And somebody will laugh at windows -
For they've defrauded beggars yet.