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He who was born

 He, who was born in stagnant year 
Does not remember own way.
We, kids of Russia's years of fear, Remember every night and day.
Years that burned everything to ashes! Do you bring madness or grace? The war's and freedom's fire flashes Left bloody light on every face.
We are struck dumb: the toxsin's pressure Has made us tightly close lips.
In living hearts, once full of pleasure, The fateful desert now sleeps.
And let the crying ravens soar Right over our death-bed, May those who were striving more, O God, behold Thy Kingdom's Great!

by Aleksandr Blok
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