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Aleksandr Blok - On the Field of Kulicovo
Work rating: Low

The river stretched. It flows, idly grieves,
And washes both banks.
In steppe, above light clay of cliffs
Rinks mourn in ranks.

O Russia! Dear wife! With clearness and pain
We see the lengthy way!
It sent an arrow of ancient Tartar reign -
In breast it lay.   

The way through steppes and an incessant plight,
Through your, o Russia, lot! 
And alien dark and dark of night
I fear not.

Let be the night. We`ll ride and light in gloom
Camp-fires late.
The holy flag will flash in fume,
And Khan`s steel blade…

And endless battle! We only dream of peace
Through blood and dust…
The mare of steppes flies on and flees,
And tramples the grass…

There`s no end! The miles and cliffs flash past
Stop crazy flood!
The frightened clouds go fast,
Sun sets in blood! 

Sun sets in blood! Blood streams from heart away!
O cry, my heart…
There`s no peace! Through steppe the bay
Prolongs the flight!
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