«For a hundred days grenades have been piercing / The bloodstained Malakhov hill.1 / And the red-haired British soldiers / Are storming it, marching to a harsh drum’s beat. And the fortress, Petropavlovsk-on-Kamchatka, / Is submerged in peaceful, normal sleep. / A lieutenant with a limp,...»
«We saw death at rather close range, / and perhaps we could have died ourselves, / we walked wherever it was possible to walk, / and looked at everything that one could look at. / We climbed into trenches / drenched with the smell of creosote / and “sake” spilt on the sand, / where ...»
«To A. Surkov Remember, Alyosha, the roads of Smolensk, / The cruel, the endlessly falling rain, / The tired women bringing us earthenware vessels, / And hugging them, like children, from the rain, How they wiped their eyes, stealthily, / And whispered on parting: “May God protect you! / ...»
«On an accordion which had seen plenty, / Moving his fingers over husky keys, / In an unfamiliar car the blind man played / The song “Along the Highway.”1 Blinded near Molodechno, / Back in that other, different war, / Straight from the clinic, he had set out, crippled, / His eyes sh...»