Boris Ryzhy
The poet is dead! Glorious prisoner
Fell down, was slandered by gossip,
Bow his arrogant and unyielding head,
Shot in the chest, eager for revenge!
The poet's mind can't stand it any longer.
Tiny insults and oppression,
He stood up against public opinion,
Or a person ... killed!
Killed! ..... now crying and sad.
Analyze complaints, talk empty excuses,
What's the use of empty chorus praise?
The final verdict of fate has been pronounced!
Isn't it you who was so fierce at the beginning?
Persecute his free and brave genius,
You want to have some fun for yourself.
Fired the dying fire again?
Okay？ Satisfied ...-He already has it.
Can't stand this last pain any longer:
The rare genius went out like a torch,
The gorgeous corolla has withered.
His killer shot in cold blood.
A fatal blow ... hopeless;
His empty heart was beating evenly,
The gun in his hand never trembled slightly.
Is that weird? ..... follow the will of fate,
Throw us one from a distance.
Like thousands of fugitives,
To chase luck and hunt for high officials and high salaries;
He laughed rudely and despised rudely.
The other party's language, the other party's customs;
He doesn't know how to cherish our glory;
He won't understand the blood at this moment
He raised his hand to something! ……
He was killed-taken away by the grave,
Like that unknown but lovely poet,
The victim of unsolvable jealousy,
The man who sings with amazing power,
Like him, he lost his life under ruthless hands.
Why did he put aside that calm, comfortable and simple friendship?
Walk into this jealous and free heart.
A dirty world full of passion?
Why did he reach out to the little wounded,
Why does he believe in all that rhetoric and hypocrisy?
He saw through the ghost when he was young? ……
They took off his old corolla-put it on him.
A garland full of thorns with cassia twigs on the front and back;
But an invisible thorn in the crown of Jing.
Stabbed his beautiful face;
That ridiculous and ignorant fool took advantage of the rumor of rape.
Poisoning him at the last minute.
He died with a useless desire for revenge,
Secret regrets left with the hope of being cheated.
Those wonderful songs are silent,
They will never make a loud sound again:
The singer's hiding place is dark and narrow,
Burn a mark on his lips.
You are famous for your meanness and meanness.
The arrogant and shameless descendants of our ancestors,
You trampled it with your slave's heel.
Traces of those who lost in the lucky contest!
You greedy people flock to the throne,
The butcher who strangles "freedom", "genius" and "glory"
You hide in the shadow of the law, and for you,
Public opinion and justice-always silent!
But there is also the judge of God, a lewd and shameless person!
Strict judges are waiting for you;
He never paid attention to the crisp sound of gold and silver,
He has seen through your thoughts and actions.
At that time, it was useless for you to resort to slander;
That trick won't help you anymore,
You use all your dirty black blood
Can't wash away the poet's blood of justice!