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“Kiev” («Киев», Маяковский В.В. (РУС>>ENG))

Paws of firs, so many of them, so many!
All with snow and all so warm here!
It’s like be the guest of old-old granny
Yesterday I came to Kiev!

So, I stand on Saint Vladimir’s hill –
Wideness – the real poet’s muse!
Just like this, with cold slight frosts infilled,
Perun-God inspected Kievan Rus.

Then, I don’t remember who and when,
But I know, that it was here, in cold.
Also in the waters, in the swirl and fen
People came with gifts to Dir and Ascold.

Then the sun attacked the golden doms:
-Now kneel, Rus! Bend and stand!
Till this day Vladimir-prince us crowns,
Holding lash of cross in his right hand!

People came from so far, hard to tell,
Our distant-distant ancestors.
Oh, so many bloody bagatelles,
Here, on my granny’s Dnieper’s shores.

Stolypin here was killed, and then he rose,
Rose as the cold concrete monument.
Then again was killed, and trembled limes and roses
From the shoots of dozens of governments.

Now Podil-district is fuming here,
Kiev’s chest is buzzing with the boilers.
Not the saint, the other one Vladimir
Crossing us with iron and the fire of ordinance.

I became a proud of this wideness!
That’s a proud of the other sort then.
Here my labour country! In the world the one is!
-Hey, Poincaré, take us? No, goddamn!

Let still from the Lavra the last old pope
Trembling by the ring bell-tower’s walls.
On Khreschatyk shroff will cry in dope,
As a wolf: “I give and take”, he bowls.

Our strength is truth, yours – the chapel’s nabat.
Yours – the smoke from censer, ours – from the plant.
Yours – the golden rouble, ours – crimson standard!
We will come, will take and will supplant!

So, hello-farewell, the ancient granny!
Go away! Away and hurry!
Now die, you trot, you spiv and bigot fanny!
Grandsons came and came to you to bury!

(2019)