Текст песни В. Я. Брюсов - Грядущие гунны

COMING HUNKS
Tread their paradise, Attila.
Vyach. Ivanov

Where are you coming Huns
What a cloud hung over the world!
I hear your stomp cast iron
According to the not yet open Pamirs.

Horde drunk on us
Collapse from the Dark Rains -
Revitalize a decrepit body
A wave of blazing blood.

Deliver, slaves of will,
The huts at the palaces, as it happened,
Scatter the fun field
In place of the throne room.

Make books bonfires
Dance in their joyful light
Do abomination in the temple, -
You are innocent in everything, like children!

And we, sages and poets,
Keepers of mystery and faith
Take away the lighted lights
In the catacombs, in the desert, in the cave.

And what, under a flying storm.
Under this storm of destruction
Save the playing Case
Of our treasured creations?

Without a trace everything will bend, maybe
What was known to us alone
But you who destroy me
I meet with a welcoming anthem.