Carnations / In Loving Memory of Alexei Navalny
The earth is damp: the city is wild
Rotten to the ground.
I bring carnations to the cemetery,
I look for the Hero among the graves.
The earth is damp: the city is gray
The horizon is hidden in the fire.
Some are lying, others have sat down,
Others have vomited from the risotto.
The war is insane and absurd:
Flowers on the cold corpse
Fly in response from Aleppo
Under the howl of the Jericho trumpets.
And the circles of Hell have closed here:
And the devils have come out for a parade.
The prisoners of the chambers look at the dust and dirt of the Moscow streets.
Pegasus is angry that he is hobbled:
He is disgusted among the murderers!
I take the pen from the sheath,
To cut a path to God.
I chop from the shoulder line by line,
Catching the meanings of words,
But Time, shortening the terms,
Extinguishes the poets from the barrel.
I whisper prayers clearly in vain
About, Abba Father, help!
Absenteeism in my report card is drawn
One of the dug graves.
Always ready to hang on the yardarm,
He erected a temple not made by hands!
Will warm the stiff
One of the abandoned carnations!
It is hard for me to look at the snouts
Of devils who have arranged the Sabbath!
I ask Death to bury
With one of the broken shovels.
I write poems to my friends to wonder,
Gnawing into books like a worm,
I pray to Life to revive
With one of the sun's rays.
Take a dose of poetry medicine!
I wrote all this so that
You, my Rus', would throw roses
Into my empty, miserable, cramped coffin!..
I will come to watch and smile,
Forgetting the pain of loss and misfortune.
I ask for immortality, and that's it!..
To my poems, not to myself!
I am not closely acquainted with Death,
But I will pay tribute with poems!
You will throw me, Rus', lumps of clay,
To shake off your disgusted hand...
Red to the elbows not from clay:
That is the blood of a peaceful people.
Propagandons are so playful,
To kill for sure!
The right hand crossed itself,
The foreman spat from the box.
Your war is just a dream to me,
Like a terrible delirium in a fever!
They nailed the Hero to the ground:
They will not fail to slander!
And the ghouls stole his carnations in five minutes...