Konstanty Ildefons Gałczyński
Stalin died.
To the half-hanged flag pre-spring wind fair
It's not the wind, it's the weeping on all continents and archipelagos.
Stalin died.
It's like a abrupt hail of grain's broken.
It's like a night in broad daylight.
Today the sun is simply a mourning flag.
Stalin died.
People are crying on the streets.
Tough.
Such a burden fell upon his hand.
People cry like grain of sand.
And they loved him the hottest.
He's shouting Volga.
The Sob of the Seine.
It's called the Danube.
Chinese rivers groan.
It's like an open wound.
They're lamenting Georgian creeks. Aragwa screams: Stalin!
The clouds of the full globe were sewn together by the wind.
O poets, spread in all village, in all land our large pain after the large Stalin.
A friend died.
The shadow has fallen to the ground since that death, from the ocean to the ocean, from Gibraltar to Ural.
But let the enemy not number on shadow and misfortune, but let the enemy not think that it will pass through that shadow. The enemy will not feed on our pain and regret.
Konstanty Idelfons Gałczyński
