By Zinaida Gippius
I
Don't know whether to cry or pray,
Walk out to night or wait for day,
With what faith to give strength to self,
Or with what faithlessness to help?
So what, that we don't know our guilt,
It lives in you, it lives in me,
And we all burn, but won't expire,
Inside of an uncleansing fire.
II
If you shall bid us death - we'll die.
Would order "live!" - won't wonder why.
And all, as one, for you we'll march,
For you, for you we'll rise in arms.
Seems, such is our dice's roll;
Seems it's been ordered by the law
Finds a response each calling crying,
Within our heart, by you ignited.
Now be what may. Can't tread behind;
To Godly power we've resigned.
May brother versus brother go,
May break apart the very soul!
- 1920