The Songs Of Siberian Exiles
We stand unbroken in our places,
Our shovels dare to take no rest,
For not in vain his golden treasure
God buried deep in earth's dark breast.
Then shovel on and do not falter,
Humble and hopeful, clear we see--
When Russia has grown rich and mighty,
Our grandchildren will grateful be!
* * * * *
Though streams the sweat in rivers downward,
Our arms from shoveling grown weak,
Our bodies frozen to an ice crust
While we new strength in slumber seek--
Sweating or freezing, we will bear it!
Thirst-pain and hunger will withstand,
For each stone is of use to Russia,
And each is given by our own hand!
poem by Nikolay Alekseyevich Nekrasov
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The Negro Speaks Of Rivers
I've known rivers:
I've known rivers ancient as the world and older than the
flow of human blood in human veins.
My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young.
I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.
I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.
I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln
went down to New Orleans, and I've seen its muddy
bosom turn all golden in the sunset.
I've known rivers:
Ancient, dusky rivers.
My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
poem by Langston Hughes
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Negro Speaks of Rivers
I've known rivers:
I've known rivers ancient as the world and older than the
flow of human blood in human veins
My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young
I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.
I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.
I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln
went down to New Orleans, and I've seen its muddy
bosom turn all golden in the sunset
I've known rivers:
Ancient, dusky rivers.
My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
poem by Langston Hughes
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Russia! ! ! !
Russia has power
The power to build a tower
They will never cower
At the site of a bigger tower
Because they still have power
Russia has power over stuff
Because they are really tough
People in Russia never ever run
Because they always have a gun
Russia owns a big bomb
AND SO YOU WILL LISTEN TO THEM!
poem by Puby Mannheimer
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Allied supplies of arms to Russia, and the manpower reserves of Russia have been sufficient to bring continuous counter-attacks against our Eastern Front.
quote by Hjalmar Schacht
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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First and Last
Thy "little lamb" once more!
My Lord, my life, my rest,
Borne in thine arms the wide world o'er,
A lamb upon thy breast.
Thy sheep across the waste
Were wandering far and wide,
And after them my heart would baste
To bring them to thy side.
Thy lambs were weak and faint,
I could but give my best;
Feebly I sought to still the plaint,
And bear them on my breast.
Great Shepherd of the sheep!
The sheep are thine, not mine!
Thou thy great flock wilt surely keep,
And each one lamb of thine.
Ever, the wide waste o'er,
A lamb upon thy breast!
Thy lost thou seekest evermore,
I seek, with thee, and rest.
A lamb upon thy breast,
Still learning what thou art, -
Our Lord, our life, our strength, our rest!
Borne on thy changeless heart.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Thy "little lamb" once more
My Lord, my life, my rest;
Borne in thine arms the dark flood o'er,
A lamb upon thy breast!
poem by Elizabeth Rundle Charles from Littell's Living Age, Volume 143, Issue 1842
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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I don't think Russia will follow the United States's way. I don't think Russia will follow the French way. I'm sure Russia will find its own way.
quote by Anatoly Chubais
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Farewell To The Dead
Come near!-ere yet the dust
Soil the bright paleness of the settled brow,
Look on your brother, and embrace him now,
In still and solemn trust!
Come near!-once more let kindred lips be press'd
On his cold cheek; then bear him to his rest!
Look yet on this young face!
What shall the beauty, from amongst us gone,
Leave of its image, ev'n where most it shone,
Gladdening its hearth and race?
Dim grows the semblance on man's heart impress'd-
-Come near, and bear the beautiful to rest!
Ye weep, and it is well!
For tears befit earth's partings!-Yesterday
Song was upon the lips of this pale clay,
And sunshine seem'd to dwell
Where'er he mov'd-the welcome and the bless'd!
-Now gaze! and bear the silent unto rest!
Look yet on him, whose eye
Meets yours no more, in sadness or in mirth!
Was he not fair amidst the sons of earth,
The beings born to die?
-But not where death has power may love be bless'd--
Come near! and bear ye the belov'd to rest!
How may the mother's heart
Dwell on her son, and dare to hope again?
The spring's rich promise hath been given in vain,
The lovely must depart!
Is he not gone, our brightest and our best?
Come near! and bear the early-call'd to rest!
Look on him! is he laid
To slumber from the harvest or the chase?
-Too still and sad the smile upon his face,
Yet that, ev'n that, must fade!
Death holds not long unchang'd his fairest guest,-
Come near! and bear the mortal to his rest!
His voice of mirth hath ceas'd
Amidst the vineyards! there is left no place
For him whose dust receives your vain embrace,
At the gay bridal feast!
Earth must take earth to moulder on her breast;
Come near! weep o'er him! bear him to his rest!
Yet mourn ye not as they
Whose spirit's light is quench'd!-for him the past
Is seal'd. He may not fall, he may not cast
His birthright's hope away!
All is not here of our belov'd and bless'd-
-Leave ye the sleeper with his God to rest!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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A Beggar's Prayer
Precious Lord;
I have much to ask,
and you have much to do;
But Lord,
I need your Mighty strength...
for I know not what to do.
I know my place is humble,
and you are the King of Kings;
But Lord,
I need your Mighty strength...
for I know not what to do.
I'm certain that I am unworthy,
of your mercy and saving grace;
But Lord,
I need your Mighty strength...
for I know not what to do.
I walk the road that I choose,
and stumble most of the time;
But Lord,
I need your Mighty strength...
for I know not what to do.
I want to walk your path,
and help others along the way;
But Lord,
I need your Mighty strength...
for I know not what to do.
I ask for your guidance,
in setting my feet back straight;
But Lord,
I need your Mighty strength...
for I know not what to do.
I turn to you O Lord,
with open arms and bleeding heart;
Because Lord,
I need your Mighty strength...
for You alone know what to do.
poem by George Aul
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Set In Stone
There alive, die as I space you.
That's where I cease the spell.
The devil loves the pain.
Certain victims breath the pain.
Buried, weak the soul.
No more to you.
You're set in stone.
Bow at your feeds and thoughts.
Cold winter, freezing solid with your fights fooling where.
Hear voices say.
Tall toys gone.
Fell aside with heaps of fear.
Dreaded calls springs in year.
One attacks himself from them.
Feel your own spirit.
Spirit say.
Timeout your life.
What's wrong? Your wrong.
We're set in stone.
We're set in stone.
Strike of thirst, in hell its sought.
By devil night we bought.
Heaps of pain, tools of war.
Towards my painful ever sore.
We're set in stoneX4
Over by the trees behind.
Set in ourselves we find.
Power builds, where it hurts.
Come.
song performed by by Obituary
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On the Field of Kulicovo
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!
poem by Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Blok
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Nigeria: The slumber
Nigeria, a people that suffer
A people that strive, a people that hunger
A people in a dark, deep and dangerous slumber
A people whose greed, ignorance and corruption linger
Whose deep wound heals on one side
but bleeds on the other
A people dragged into the mud
by those that arise from the mud
A people of democracy
A democracy of mediocrity
A democracy of evil greed
A democracy of rotten seed
A people of careless leadership
A people of spineless followership
Nigeria,
A plastic face
A prideless deep
A shameless she
Of salvage leaders
Nigeria, my country
Drowning in the pool of its blood
Spilled by its children
Nigeria, my country,
Moving in a circle
A cycle of religion
A cycle of tribe
A cycle of corruption
A cycle of destruction
Nigeria, my people
A people that suffer
A people that thirst
A people that hunger
A people in a deep, dark and dangerous slumber
A people whose light grows dimmer
Whose hope grows slimmer
Till eyes rise from the slumber
And greed appreciates hunger
And true voices shout like thunder
And willed feet stump and say no longer! !
Nigeria,
A people that suffer
A people that hunger
A people in a dark, deep and dangerous slumber….
poem by Andrew Ahile
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The revolution in Russia was victorious with the help of the poor peasants. This should always be borne in mind here in Western Europe and all the world over. But the workers in Western Europe stand alone: this should never be forgotten in Russia.
quote by Herman Gorter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Since I've grown old (my version of Jenny Joseph's most wonderful poem, 'When I am old I shall wear purple! ')
Since I've grown old my belly pops out
though I don't care these days,
and find comfort in the wobbling.
Since I've grown old, my body aches
in places that I never knew I had,
yet I take pleasure in the aching.
There is time enough to feel no pain
when I am dead. At least I know
I am alive, the pain reminds me.
To moan and be outspoken is what I fancy
and I am _ to annoy my children
and my grandchildren and some.
What good is it to be old and silent,
to sit in a chair, rocking to and fro
without a gripe or a fart or both!
No, I like to let the world know I'm here,
and after all these years of staying quiet,
to argue my point a little and snarl!
Since I've grown old my skin has creases
where there used to be bloom and colour
and young men complimented me.
Seems like only yesterday I held you close
let you suckle from my tiny breasts
that are huge now they are of no use.
Men will say, 'look at the knockers on that'
as I lie on the beach, sunbathing
with a newspaper over my head…..
so I'll cackle and laugh and swear at them,
throw my stick at them and tell them to
behave ____ for now I am old.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Russia, O My Russia, Hail!
Russia, O my Russia, hail!
Steeds as tempests flying,
Howling of the distant wolves,
Eagles high, shrill crying!
Hail, my Russia, hail! Hail high!
Hail thy green forests proud,
Hail thy silvery nightingales,
Hail Steppes and wind and cloud!
poem by Aleksey Konstantinovich Tolstoy
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Russia should support globalization. The Internet can develop in Russia in a very speedy way.
quote by Anatoly Chubais
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Crutches
Thou see'st me, Lucia, this year droop;
Three zodiacs fill'd more, I shall stoop;
Let crutches then provided be
To shore up my debility:
Then, while thou laugh'st, I'll sighing cry,
A ruin underpropt am I:
Don will I then my beadsman's gown;
And when so feeble I am grown
As my weak shoulders cannot bear
The burden of a grasshopper;
Yet with the bench of aged sires,
When I and they keep termly fires,
With my weak voice I'll sing, or say
Some odes I made of Lucia;--
Then will I heave my wither'd hand
To Jove the mighty, for to stand
Thy faithful friend, and to pour down
Upon thee many a benison.
poem by Robert Herrick
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A Girl
The tree has entered my hands,
The sap has ascended my arms,
The tree has grown in my breast -
Downward,
The branches grow out of me, like arms.
Tree you are,
Moss you are,
You are violets with wind above them.
A child - so high - you are,
And all this is folly to the world.
poem by Ezra Pound
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We see considerable strain in Russia, and that's obviously a matter of concern to us. It's in the very strong self-interest of Russia to continue on the reform path.
quote by Warren Christopher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We, Russia, are prepared to work with others. I am convinced that stability and security in Europe cannot be considered without taking Russia into account.
quote by Boris Yeltsin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Temperatures
When it 25 degrees celsius,
Many say it summer in some lands;
But the same is very cold to others in another land.
When it 40 degrees celsius,
Many enjoy the heat in Africa!
But many do die in other lands too;
Since it is too much for them to bear.
When it minus 50 degrees in Russia,
The poeple there enjoy it and have no problem;
But many of us on this earth will be frozen already!
Such is life and such are the temperatures,
But we are all made to stand one condition or the other.
The status-quo and the rule of nature,
With the style of to catch up at times;
But we all need the weather forcasts to guide us on.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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