عميمة فوق سروال - مايكوفسكي - سودنة بمنتهى الإهمال

Quote: I spit on the fact That Homer and Ovid didn’t create Soot-covered with pox, Men like us all, But at the same time, I know That the sun would fade If it looked at the golden fields of our souls. Muscles are surer than prayers to us! We won’t pray for aid any more! We-- Each one of us-- Holds in his grasp The driving reins of the world! This led to Golgotha in the auditoriums13 Of Petrograd, Moscow, Kiev, Odessa, And there wasn’t one of you Who wasn’t imploring thus: “Crucify him!” Teach him a lesson!” But to me,-- People, Even those of you who were mean,-- To me, you are dear and I love you with passion. Haven’t you seen A dog licking the hand that it’s being thrashed by? I am laughed at By the present-day tribe. They’ve made A scabrous joke out of me. But I can see crossing the mountains of time, Him, whom the others can’t see. Where men’s sight falls short, Wearing the revolutions’ thorny crown, Leading at the head of the hungry horde, The year 1916 is coming around. Among you, his precursor,14 Wherever there’s pain, I’ll be near. I have nailed myself to the cross there, On every single drop of a tear. There’s nothing left to pardon now! In souls that bred pity, I burnt out the fields. That is much harder than Taking a thousand thousands of Bastilles. And when His advent announcing, Joyful and proud, You’ll step up to greet the savior-- I will drag My soul outside, And trample it Until it spreads out! And give it to you, red in blood, as a flag.