All to ashes is turned! Is it yet Never seeds in the Earth will be thrown? Does it mean that the Earth is stone-dead? No, - it waits for the time of its own. Motherhood of the Earth will remain The way seas cannot be bailed out! And the Earth will be fruitful again Spite through sorrow itís black all around. Trenches-slits to the Earth cause a pain, Craters-wounds it has bravely to bear, Bare nerves of the Earth under strain Weird suffering being aware. It will stand, overcome everything, Donít enroll it to cripples, do not smear And allege that the Earth does not sing, That it has quitted singing forever! Yes! It rings, dulling pain, out of all Wounds and cuts, and the moans tries to drown, For the Earth is our mutual soul, Soul by boots cannot be trampled down! Do not think that the Earth is deceased! No, - it waits for the time of its own...
© Vyacheslav Chistyakov. Translation, 2016