17 April

we
about the royal booty
forgot for 5 years old.
But those,
for us killed on Lena,
never forget.
No!
Russia shuddered at the anger of the evil,
when
through the taiga
to us
from the Lena frontal site -
came the execution of a rumble.
Lay down,
October petrels lay down,
looked Siberia snow:
them,
unarmed,
under bullets songs
trampled the gendarme's foot.
And when
nimble factory
gold
raked in handfuls,
lipla
with each
from five rubles
blood
hidden tundrams in a coffin.
But Tereshchenko tried in vain
wash off
rebels
from the face of the mine.
These
first cracks in the throne
nobody licks.
in no way.
The news of the execution was heard,
and to this day
buzzing charge,
across the Russian sky rasteŕlax,
October dawned.
today
spots are washed off with gold.
Our
thousands of shining veins.
Our gold.
Taken back.
Ordered:
- Serve the workers! —
we
closed their mouths red.
Quick steps of the red flag ridge.
No captain dares
pour bullets through our ranks.
today
we flow.
Red lava.
Song over lava
loose foams.
First
our
thankful glory
you, Lenses!

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Vladimir Mayakovsky
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