[lbo-talk] Brit lit goes to hell

Chris Doss lookoverhere1 at yahoo.com
Wed Jul 11 11:49:14 PDT 2007


--- Andy F <andy274 at gmail.com> wrote:
>
http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Image:Leninposter.jpg
>
> That sounds like, "Christ has died, Christ has
> risen, Christ will come again."
>
> --

BINGO! :)

It was a popular Soviet slogan. Brezhnev said it after the something-or-other-th Party Congress.

I looked around on the web for a copy of the poem in English but couldn't find it. I did find his "Conversation with Comrade Lenin," though:

Art is I; science is we. - Claude Bernard --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

CONVERSATION

WITH COMRADE LENIN

Awhirl with events,

packed with jobs one too many,

the day slowly sinks

as the night shadows fall.

There are two in the room:

I

and Lenin-

a photograph

on the whiteness of wall.

The stubble slides upward

above his lip

as his mouth

jerks open in speech.

The tense

creases of brow

hold thought

in their grip,

immense brow

matched by thought immense.

A forest of flags,

raised-up hands thick as grass...

Thousands are marching

beneath him...

Transported,

alight with joy,

I rise from my place,

eager to see him,

hail him,

report to him!

"Comrade Lenin,

I report to you -

(not a dictate of office,

the heart's prompting alone)

This hellish work

that we're out to do

will be done

and is already being done.

We feed and we clothe

and give light to the needy,

the quotas

for coal

and for iron

fulfill,

but there is

any amount

of bleeding

muck

and rubbish

around us still.

Without you,

there's many

have got out of hand,

all the sparring

and squabbling

does one in.

There's scum

in plenty

hounding our land,

outside the borders

and also

within.

Try to

count 'em

and

tab 'em -

it's no go,

there's all kinds,

and they're

thick as nettles:

kulaks,

red tapists,

and,

down the row,

drunkards,

sectarians,

lickspittles.

They strut around

proudly

as peacocks,

badges and fountain pens

studding their chests.

We'll lick the lot of 'em-

but

to lick 'em

is no easy job

at the very best.

On snow-covered lands

and on stubbly fields,

in smoky plants

and on factory sites,

with you in our hearts,

Comrade Lenin,

we build,

we think,

we breathe,

we live,

and we fight!"

Awhirl with events,

packed with jobs one too many,

the day slowly sinks

as the night shadows fall.

There are two in the room:

I

and Lenin-

a photograph

on the whiteness of wall.

1929

http://www.friends-partners.org/friends/culture/literature/20century/mayakovskiy/convlen.html(opt,mozilla,pc,english,,new)

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