Redemption
To the martyr of the working class.. the intercessor Ahmed Al-Sheikh
D. My generation Abdul Rahman
The poet's heart is heavy
If it is the blood of the intercessor
The flowers drank it
How ashamed...for spring!
In the silence I did not wail, I did not cry
When the day's funeral included... a house
We did not cry out of fear...or pity
But your dark eyes
With light, and noble!
Tasmta... like a torn flag
Resists falling into applied mud
Oh, I didn't kneel.
How bent!
And when the mercenaries attacked
You before death
So I was redeemed
Twice... O patron saint of class
In the execution square
The response was...he slept
His bones were cushioned
The fragrance of this lily
It was forenoon... a mourning
Moscow workers...plant the square
A minute of mourning
Awesome dimensions
A gray silence in its barren rocks,
Executioner's ribs
As if out of his intense hatred
Cut his neck
And you are all important
Crowned forehead... with a turban
A dove...a dove above it
And you flourish on the forehead of a hammer!
Glory to Christ
On gallows ropes
Damn the wind!
And hammer life
If I depended in her silence
She leaked her death
Its blind lines were not illuminated... a thunderbolt thundered
