Russian version
http://www.stihi.ru/2013/09/27/8437
Why so unquestioning these people
In their simplicity of rudeness
became a kind of religion
Of mob mistrusting in the goodness.
This union of the mob with power
Protected by the fears, lie
And insincerity of lovers
Of patria… forever? Why?
The mob’s excited by a promise
Of gold and glory, dominance…
Permits oppressions, shows optimism.
Just wait, they come to everyone.
Why only few see trace of blood
On sword of Damocles which hanging?
It now so clear... but
The vodka usually's so helping.
A dice with death, a dice with madness,
Pathetic words make minds ill...
Attaching holiness to hangman,
He has not been convicted still.
How many times the vicious circle
Repeats itself? There is no proud
To live in loop becoming closer
On such a space that lies around.
No fury riot can help it’s
The same trick, the same pass...
We need to see what hell is it!
We have to trust in better us.