Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Blok. (№ 415865)

Go all, go to the Urals!
We clear the place of battle
Steel machines, where the integral breathes,
With the Mongolian wild ordow!
But we ourselves - from now on you are not a shield,
From now on, we will not enter the battle ourselves,
We will see how the mortal battle boils,
With his narrow eyes.
Let's not move when the fierce Hun
In the pockets of corpses will be shuffling,
Burn the city, and drive the herd into the church,
And fry the meat of the white brothers!...
For the last time - come to yourself, the old world!
To the fraternal feast of labor and peace,
For the last time at a bright fraternal feast
A barbaric lyre calls!