Poems

Poem of the Hammer and Sickle

Our former motto –
which blocked off our past –  
was ‘On, on!’
Our state emblem
was the hammer and sickle.
We were proud!
We were so proud
we were fit to burst,
the Soviet Union’s borders
couldn’t contain us.
Of course,
it’s better to boast
of the worker’s tools
than the soldier’s.
(Labour is indeed
the most sacred occupation).
… However,
their sharp sickle! –
was cutting down
people!
Not grass or crops.
(My blood
that flowed like water
was sucked away).
Their hammer
struck my head
and floored me.
My spinal column was smashed
and my shinbones shattered …
Why do we
keep deceiving ourselves,
saying this and that?
Their sickle
mowed us down
with such force –
we haven’t grown since.
When we talk today,
we boast that we’re all so valiant,
such heroes.
Oh God,
their hammer! –
Struck us down so far
that we are still
underground,
not yet pulled up.

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