The Earth is the Soul of Man
by Vladimir Vyssotsky
Is the earth, as they say, burnt and dried?
Will a seed, as they say, never sprout?
Has the earth, as they say, really died?
No! It’s taken a lengthy time-out!
Mother Earth will forever give birth,
Its maternity isn’t a fiction!
Don’t believe that they burnt down the earth,
No! It’s blackened from grief and affliction.
Trenches, running like scars back and forth…
Bleeding guts black shell-craters expose…
They are open nerves of the earth,
Which unearthly unhappiness knows.
It will stand wars and grief – any thing!
It’s not crippled, though booted and looted…
Don’t believe that the earth doesn’t sing,
That it’s quieted down, diluted!
No, it’s singing as loud as it can
From a trench, from a wound, from a hole!
Since the earth is the soul of Man,
Boots cannot trample down the soul!
Posts under World Poetry, Music, Essays, Art & Fiction come from a random assortment of inspired sources around the web. Links to the source can be found throughout, and at the end of, each post.