Twelve
1
Black night.
White snow.
The wind, the wind!
A fellow can’t stay upright.
The wind, the wind -
Over the whole of creation!
The wind whips
White snowflakes.
Under the snowflakes - skim ice.
Slippery, hard,
Everyone afoot
Slips - ah, poor devil!
From building to building
Stretches a rope.
On the rope - a banner:
“All Power to the Constituent Assembly!”
An old woman is stricken - she weeps,
She gets none of its meaning,
What’s the sense of this banner,
Of such an enormous rag?
How many kids’ feet could it wrap,
All of them - naked, barefoot…
Like a hen, the old woman
Somehow clambered over the drift.
“Oh, Mother of Mercy”
“Oh, these bolsheviks will be the death of me!”
A piercing wind!
Followed by frost!
And a bourgeois at the crossroads
Tucked in his collar, his nose.
Now who? - A long hair
Saying under his breath:
“Traitors!’
“Russia is finished!”
Must be a writer -
A speechifier…
And look here, a long skirt -
Off to the side, behind the drift…
Why so glum today,
Comrade priest?
You remember how it used to be,
Your paunch led the way
And with its crucifix it shone,
Your paunch, upon the people?...
See there a lady in astrakhan
Has turned to another:
“How we’ve wept and wept..”
She’s slipped on the ice
And - bam - sprawled out!
Ow, ow!
Give a hand, help me up!
A merry wind
And nasty, and happy.
It twirls skirts,
It mows down pedestrians,
Rips, crumples, and blows away
A large poster:
“All Power to the Constituent Assembly”...
And it carries words:
…And we had a meeting…
…Here in this building…
…We discussed -
Be it resolved:
Ten for a quickie, for the night - twenty five…
…And for any less - nothing for nobody..
…To bed we go…
Later that night,
The street is empty.
A single tramp
Crouches,
And the wind is whistling…
Hey, poor devil!
C’mere -
Give us a kiss…
Bread!
What lies ahead?
Go on!
A black, black sky.
Malice, gloomy malice
Seethes in the chest…
Black malice, holy malice…
Comrade! Keep your eyes
Open!
2
The wind carouses, snow hopping about,
Twelve men pass by.
Black rifle straps,
All about - fires, fires, fires…
A butt in their teeth, a crushed hat,
Should be the ace of diamonds on their back!
Freedom, freedom,
Hey, hey, no cross!
Rat-a-tat-tat!
Freezing, comrades, freezing!
“And Vanya’s with Katya - in some dive…”
“Got kerenskys stuffed in her stocking!”
“Vanyuska’s in clover now…”
“He was our Vayna, but now he’s gone soldier!”
“Hey Vanya, son-of-a-bitch, bourgeois,
Try and get a smooch off me!”
Freedom, freedom,
Hey, hey, no cross!
Katya’s busy with Vanya -
Busy with what?
Rat-a-tat-tat!
All around - fires, fires, fires…
On their shoulders - rifles strapped…
Keep up the revolutionary pace!
The tireless foe never sleeps!
Comrades, grip your rifles, don’t get scared!
Let’s put a bullet in Holy Russia!
Into the old fashioned,
Into the beshacked,
Into the fat-assed!
Hey, hey, no cross!
3
And how they went, our boys
To join the red guard -
To join the red guard -
To lay down their crazy heads!
Hey you, most bitter misfortune,
Life is sweet!
A ragged coat,
An Austrian rifle!
We, to the grief of the entire bourgeoise,
Will set the world on fire,
A global blaze of blood -
Lord Jesus, bless us!
4
Snow whirls, a mad cabbie hollers,
Vanya flies along with Katya -
Electric lamp
On the harness…
Hey, hey, make way!...
He’s in a soldier’s coat
With a clown’s mug
Twirling, twirling a black moustache,
Keeps twirling,
Keeps cracking jokes…
It’s that Vanya - quite a bruiser!
It’s that Vanya - quite a talker!
He’s hugging his little Katya,
Sweet talking her…
Her head’s tossed back,
Her teeth gleam like pearls…
Oh you Katya, my Katya,
Chubby-faced girl…
5
On your neck, Katya,
The knife’s scar isn’t healed.
And under your breast, Katya,
That’s a fresh scratch!
Hey, hey, keep dancing!
Damn pretty legs!
You used to strut your frilly knickers -
Go on, sashay!
You used to screw the officers -
Go on, have some fun!
Hey, hey, have some fun!
My heart stands still!
Remember, Katya, that officer -
He couldn’t duck the knife…
Or doesn’t it spring to mind, you bitch?
Is your memory slipping?
Hey, hey, touch it up,
Let’s sleep together!
You used to wear grey stockings,
You used to gobble chocolate Minion,
With cadets you used to stroll -
Now it’s soldiers you’re doing it with?
Hey, hey, do it!
It’ll lift the soul!
6
…Once more he gallops towards us
At speed, the mad cabbie, roaring, screaming…
Stop, stop! Andy, help!
Pete, catch him!...
Bang-babang-bang-bang-bang!
A powdery snow flees upward!...
The mad cabbie - now with Vanya - takes off…
Again! Pull the trigger!...
Bang-babang! You’ll get the hang,
. . . . . . .
It’s just like dating somebody’s girl!...
He got away, the asshole! Wait and see,
I’ll deal with you tomorrow!
But where’s Katya? - She’s dead, dead!
Shot through the head!
Well, Katya, you happy? Not a peep…
Lie there in the snow, bitch!
Keep up the revolutionary pace!
The tireless foe never sleeps!
7
Once more the twelve are on the march,
Rifles - at their shoulders.
It’s only the wretched assassin
That doesn’t show his face…
He hurries on
Always faster, faster.
A scarf tied round his neck
But he can’t pull himself together…
“What’s up, comrade, not happy?”
“Hey, old pal, cat got your tongue?”
“Why the long face, Petey,
Got Katya on your mind?”
“Oh comrades, my mates,
I loved that girl….
The dark, drunken nights
We spent together…”
“It’s all from the wicked temptation
In her fiery eyes,
Because of the crimson mole
By her right shoulder,
I’ve destroyed her, not thinking,
Destroyed her in a blind fit… ah!”
“You see this jerk, cranking on his hurdy-gurdy,
What’s up, Pete, all grandmother now?”
“Really, you gonna spill your guts
To the world, well be my guest!”
“Straighten yourself up!”
“Get a hold of yourself!”
“Today is not the day
For us to babysit you!
We don’t need the added weight
Dear comrade!”
So Petey backs off
No more double time…
He holds his head high,
And is cheerful once more…
Hey, hey!
Having a little fun’s no crime!
Lock your doors,
Today is for looting!
Open up the cellars -
The rabble’s on the town!
8
Oh you most bitter misfortune!
Tedious boredom,
To death!
Yeah, a bit of time
I’ll pass, I’ll pass…
Yeah, a little head
I’ll scratch, I’ll scratch…
Yeah, little seeds
I’ll crack, I’ll crack…
Yeah, with my little knife
I’ll slash, I’ll slash!...
Fly away little bourgeois sparrow!
Your blood I’ll drink
For my sweetheart
With the dark eyebrows…
Grant her soul rest, oh lord, thy servant…
Boring!
9
The city makes no sound,
Silence lies on the Neva tower,
And there’s no coppers around -
Have some fun, boys, no wine!
Standing at the crossroads, a bourgeois,
His nose buried in his collar.
At his side is huddling, fur bristled,
Tail tucked, a mangy mutt.
Bourgeois standing like a hungry mutt,
Standing speechless like a question.
And the old world, like a stray dog,
Is standing behind him, tail tucked.
10
The blizzard has grown intense,
Ah, the blizzard, ah, the blizzard!
Each other we cannot see
Even four paces away!
Snow swirls upward,
Snow rises in a column…
“Oh, my savior, what a storm!”
“Pete! Quit babbling!
What’s he saved you from
That gilded painting?”
“You’re out of your mind, you know,
Use your head, make sense -”
“Haven’t your hands got bloody
For the love of that girl Katya?”
“Keep the revolutionary pace!
The tireless foe never sleeps!”
Onwards, onwards, onwards,
Working people!”
11
…On they march without a saint’s name day
All twelve - into the distance.
Ready for anything,
No regrets…
Their rifle barrels
Aimed at unseen foes…
Into a blind alley,
Where sweeps only the blizzard…
Into only drifts of powder -
Where your boot gets stuck…
Beating upon their eyes
The red flag.
Sounding off
A rhythmic stride.
Look there - waking up
The cruel enemy…
And the snowstorm blinds their eyes
Day and night
Without end…
Onward, onward,
Working people!
12
…Onward they march with a majestic stride…
“Who’s there? Show yourself!”
It’s - the wind in a red banner
Gusting on ahead.
Ahead - an icy snowdrift,
“Who’s there in the drift - show yourself!...”
But it’s only a poor, starving mutt
That limps along behind us…
“Piss off, you flea bag,
I’ll tickle you with a bayonet!
Old world, you mangy mutt,
Get lost - or I’ll smack you!”
It bares its fangs - a hungry wolf -
Tail tucked in - it won’t drop back -
A cold dog - a stray dog…
“Hey, answer, who goes there?”
“Who waves the red flag?”
“Take a look there, can’t see a thing!”
Who’s scurrying there
In the shadows of the houses?”
“All the same, I’ll get you,
Better give up, stay alive!”
“Hey, comrade, don’t push your luck,
Show yourself or we shoot!”
Rat-a-tat-tat! - And only an echo
Comes back from the houses…
Only the snowstorm
With a long mocking laugh…
Rat-a-tat-tat!
Rat-a-tat-tat…
So they march with a majestic stride -
Behind them - a starving dog,
In the fore - with a red flag,
Unseen in the storm,
And safe from bullets,
Carefully walking over the drifts,
Covered in pearls of snow,
In a crown of white roses -
In the fore - Christ Jesus.
Alexander Blok - 1918
