For whom the bell tolls late on Summer night
When all that has the soul are fast asleep?
Perhaps, it tolls for city’s peaceful sleep
About to be broken by gunfire.

The stars, where have they gone?
Who’s life they want to save?
Perhaps, those Ossetians about to be slaughtered?
For whom the bell tolls at this early hour
When Dawn has not yet broken?

It  must be tolling for an old woman and her grandsons
Mixed with the earth by cold steel of machines
By soulless creatures driven.
And for the father gone insane from grief
At site of his beheaded daughters.

Or for the church burnt down with all souls
Who fled to safety of House of God that morning?
Where all the birds have gone?
They lost their voice in mourning.

The rain has failed to wash out all the blood
And gave up in despair.
And leaves failed to leave the trees that fall
‘Cause dead Ossetians took their space on earth.

Whilst vile chameleon was basking in the sun
Counting the dead, it murmured in content:
Love you denied me, called me evil creature
‘Cause you detested constant change of colors.

Alas, the people’s kind surpass I failed:
Like me they change their colors, but their skill
To hide the colors true is better far than mine!
One day they lick your feet, but once the back is turned,
A dagger leaves the sheath and stabs your trusting heart!

The mighty wind has quieted in terror,
But conquered he is not and not corrupted,
He won’t distort the truth to please the masters!
He’ll gather strength and tell the whole World
Of this horrendous massacre.

The Ocean wild will stir and raise huge waves
That’ll drown fraud by people perpetrated.
The great blue sky will summon mighty storms
That’ll throw bolts of lightning and the thunder
Will echo: yet again the fraud has triumphed!

So, for whom the bell tolls on this clear Summer day
When meadows are awash with flowers’ bloom?
It tolls for you who brought this  misery,
It tolls for me as well, the one who’s destined to remember it.
 

Liana Margiva

Translated from Russian by Anatol  Kardiukov