Gulag, 1937

for Anton

I see your noble face behind barbed wire,
Looking out at endless tundra, greeted
Only by cold. The laughter of the liar
Who put you there is still loud in your ears,
Although in far-off Moscow now he's seated,
The hooked-nosed slayer of the highborn rich,
Sadist and defiler of Slavic daughters,
Egalitarian savant and snitch.
Who, you think, will remember the martyrs
The frightened faces and the countless tears,
The forgotten dead of Russia and Ukraine?
Who will write the history of their pain?
Still so frightened after all these years,
You only whisper, "Comrade Rabinovich."

--from the Russian of Yuri Antyzhyd