To Mikhail Kalashnikov
When you were young, you wanted to become a poet
You had made poetry during your youth
Yet you went in a path that is different
You were born poor, when Rodina Mat was young
Trying to resist the hordes of the old order
Eventually becoming stronger
Of blood soaked fields, corpses becoming fertilizer
For a growing homeland whose dream wanted better
You had made few poems, admiring people around
You had dreamt of peace yet everyone heard a different sound
Yes, the sound of hammers coming from the foundries
Which Rodina Mat had nurtured same as the wheat fields astound
But as years passed by, fate made you into a soldier
Seeing the terror of the Reich, hearing complains from another:
The rifle jams despite firing on the trenches
We don't want to surrender!
Giving an idea for a weapon,
defending the homeland for a reason
You had created a weapon inspired by the Garand,
Sturmgewehrs, SKS, weapons feared but understand
Defending the homeland is a reason but to every soldier and victim revenge shows in their eyes
For despite terror made by the Reich and Reaction: Rodina's outmost anger realized!
And in every poem you had made lies a million deaths
The songs you had played brings blood from their wounds
Sea of blood creating swan songs and a dozen wraths
Of god, yes, the God of war through you gives terror to them.
Bang! Lies the first sound of freedom
The tremors of the once oppressed gave revenge through your gun
Like your avenging Rodina Mat, their mothers cried avenge!
As their sons and daughters, with your gun creating songs and poems
Death to their enemies as their pledge.
Yes you are a poet,
Your gun is your pen, their blood is your ink
In every battle your gun creates poetry
Giving terror to the enemies of your homeland