We stand unbroken in our places, <br />Our shovels dare to take no rest, <br />For not in vain his golden treasure <br />God buried deep in earth's dark breast. <br /> <br />Then shovel on and do not falter, <br />Humble and hopeful, clear we see-- <br />When Russia has grown rich and mighty, <br />Our grandchildren will grateful be! <br /> <br />* * * * * <br /> <br />Though streams the sweat in rivers downward, <br />Our arms from shoveling grown weak, <br />Our bodies frozen to an ice crust <br />While we new strength in slumber seek-- <br /> <br />Sweating or freezing, we will bear it! <br />Thirst-pain and hunger will withstand, <br />For each stone is of use to Russia, <br />And each is given by our own hand!<br /><br />Nikolay Alekseyevich Nekrasov<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-songs-of-siberian-exiles/
