Anatoly Mariengof's poem about 1917 and the break with the past
Each day of ours is a new chapter of the Bible.
Each page will be Great to thousands of generations.
We are those of whom they will say:
"The lucky ones, they lived in 1917."
And you are still wailing: we are lost!
Still squandering your whimpers!
Foolish heads,
Is yesterday not crushed, like a pigeon
By a motor car
That has leapt furiously out of its garage?!
Literal translation
Anatoly Mariengof. Each Day of Ours
In the photograph: Sergey Yesenin and Anatoly Mariengof