VERSE TELLS OF RUSSIAN BOMB

Press, Volume LXXXV, Issue 25935, 15 October 1949, Page 3

VERSE TELLS OF RUSSIAN BOMB

A blinding explosion that tore asunder a granite ■ mountain was described in a poem by Evgenij Dolmstovskij in the July issue of the Moscow literary magazine, “Novy Mir. ’ The poem attributed the explosion to a single shell—“not gunpowder, nor dynamite,” but “far more powerful stuff.”

“I will not tell its name,” said the poet, but he added, “May the sound wave reach the foreign coasts and warn our enemies who hear it there.”

The poem placed the explosion in the Taiga area of the Soviet Union, 75 miles south of Tomsk and far east of the Ural Mountains.

Following is the text of the poem, “Your Strength,” as translated from the Russian: You shuddered, the distant hollow

rumble Of your carriage Sounded like* a wind. ~ Sleep, my baby, Your doll, your teddy-bear and your little black devil are sleeping peacefully like children. Where did that sudden jolt come

from? What does that signify? In the Taiga, far away from here In quite another end of the country, Where the colour of the yellow leaves Does not glow away until spring, There stands a granite mountain Which is barring our way. Long, long ago it had been the time To turn it upside down. Long, long ago it should have been forced to give away its ore. Sleep, my daughter, The night is dark. Sleep my baby. At that place there lived a group

of geologists In frost and heat. Twelve months long They were groveling around on the

mountain. Then there came an airplane ful] of professors to that place and then a platoon of pioneers, First class lads. And their young commander, And he was ordered to lay down

an explosive shell. It was not gunpowder, nor dynamite. There is far more powerful stfiff Now in your country. I will not tell its name. Sleep, my baby. At the pre-arranged hour, the

explosion occurred. The granite was blown asunder to dust. The Taiga around the mountain was illuminated By golden radiance. The old mountain disappeared and the roar of the explosion interrupted at five in the morning The sleep of children As a breath of wind From far. far away. Sleep, little girl, Your hand lies in my hand. May the sound wave reach the foreign coasts And warn our enemies Who hear it there. The mountain away like flame and gave away its ore. Not long ago only a fairy tale, This has now occurred. Sleep, my baby.