Analysis of The Scythians



You are but millions. Our unnumbered nations
Are as the sands upon the sounding shore.
We are the Scythians! We are the slit-eyed Asians!
Try to wage war with us-you'll try no more!

You've had whole centuries. We-a single hour.
Like serfs obedient to their feudal lord,
We've held the shield between two hostile powers-
Old Europe and the barbarous Mongol horde.

Your ancient forge has hammered down the ages,
Drowning the distant avalanche's roar.
Messina, Lisbon-these, you thought, were pages
In some strange book of legendary lore.

Full centuries long you've watched our Eastern lands,
Fished for our pearls and bartered them for grain;
Made mockery of us, while you laid your plans
And oiled your cannon for the great campaign.

The hour has come. Doom wheels on beating wing.
Each day augments the old outrageous score.
Soon not a trace of dead nor living thing
Shall stand where once your Paestums flowered before.

O Ancient World, before your culture dies,
Whilst failing life within you breathes and sinks,
Pause and be wise, as Oedipus was wise,
And solve the age-old riddle of the Sphinx.

That Sphinx is Russia. Grieving and exulting,
And weeping black and bloody tears enough,
She stares at you, adoring and insulting,
With love that turns to hate, and hate-to love.

Yes, love! For you of Western lands and birth
No longer know the love our blood enjoys.
You have forgoten there's a love on Earth
That burns like fire and, like all fire, destroys.

We love cold Science passionately pursued;
The visionary fire of inspiration;
The salt of Gallic wit, so subtly shrewd,
And the grim genius of th German nation.

We know the hell of a Parisian street,
And Venice, cool in water and in stone;
The scent of lemons in the southern heat;
The fuming piles of soot-begrimed Cologne.

We love raw flesh, its color and its stench.
We love to taste it in our hungry maws.
Are we to blame then, if your ribs should crunch,
Fragile between our massive, gentle paws?

We know just how to play the cruel game
Of breaking in the most rebellious steeds;
And stubborn captive maids we also tame
And subjugate, to gratify our needs…

Come join us, then! Leave war and war's alarms,
And grasp the hand of peace and amity.
While still there's time, Comrades, lay down your arms!
Let us unite in true fraternity!

But if you spurn us, then we shall not mourn.
We too can reckon perfidy no crime,
And countless generations yet unborn
Shall curse your memory till the end of time.

We shall abandon Europe and her charm.
We shall resort to Scythian craft and guile.
Swift to the woods and forests we shall swarm,
And then look back, and smile our slit-eyed smile.

Away to the Urals, all! Quick, leave the land,
And clear the field for trial by blood and sword,
Where steel machines that have no soul must stand
And face the fury of the Mongol horde.

But we ourselves, henceforth, we shall not serve
As henchmen holding up the trusty shield.
We'll keep our distance and, slit-eyed, observe
The deadly conflict raging on the field.

We shall not stir, even though the frenzied Huns
Plunder the corpses of the slain in battle, drive
Their cattle into shrines, burn cities down,
And roast their white-skinned fellow men alive.

O ancient World, arise! For the last time
We call you to the ritual feast and fire
Of peace and brotherhood! For the last time
O hear the summons of the barbarian lyre!


Scheme ABAB CDXD EBEB XFXF GBGB HIHI GXGX JKJK LMLM NONO XAXX PQPQ RSRS TUTU XVXV WDWD XYXY AZXZ UCUX
Poetic Form Quatrain  (89%)
Metre 1111010110 1101010101 11011101110 1111111111 111100101010 11010011101 11010111010 11000100101 11011101010 1001011 01010111010 011111001 110011110101 11101010111 11001111111 0111010101 01011111101 111010101 1101111101 1111111001 1101011101 1101011101 1011110011 0101110101 11110100010 0101010101 11110100010 1111110111 1111110101 11010110101 11110111 111100111001 11110100001 0100101010 01110111001 001101111010 1101100101 0101010001 0111000101 010111101 1111110011 11111010101 1111111111 10011010101 1111110101 1100010101 0101011101 010110101 1111110101 0101110100 111111111 111010100 1111111111 1111010011 010010111 11110010111 1101010001 11011100101 1101010111 01110110111 01101011101 01011101101 1101111111 0101010101 11001111111 1101010101 11101001101 0101010101 11111010101 100101010101 1100111101 0111110101 1101011011 111101001010 110101011 110101001001
Closest metre Iambic pentameter
Characters 3,305
Words 598
Sentences 44
Stanzas 19
Stanza Lengths 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4
Lines Amount 76
Letters per line (avg) 35
Words per line (avg) 8
Letters per stanza (avg) 140
Words per stanza (avg) 31
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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on May 01, 2023

3:02 min read
221

Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Blok

Alexander Alexandrovich Blok was a Russian lyrical poet, writer, publicist, playwright, translator, literary critic. more…

All Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Blok poems | Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Blok Books

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