We were not told to shoot – I stand on the cannon
and I took a look at the field; two hundred canons were thundering
Rows of Russian artillery are stretching out
straight, long, far like shores of a sea;
And I saw their commander: he ran, waved his sword
and like a bird one wing of his army swung;
From under the wing, the squeezed infantry pours
in a long black column as lava of mud,
Showered with sparkles of bayonets. Like Vultures
Black banners lead their regiments to death.