remember people


On the ground, the long-suffering Belarus
Our scout in hand vorogov caught.
He was captured when a narrow footpath
In the guerrilla zones waded.

There was a dark-skinned, dark-eyed, black-browed,
He walked away from Georgia in a harsh campaign.
"You're a spy, recognized in the last hour!"
He answered. "I am from the village adjoining"

The village, the snow orphaned
Led his noisy crowd.
"If you're lying - you can not escape the shooting,
If it is true then let go, to hell with you.

No way, the lieutenant was you before,
And now hiding in peasant clothes! "
He replied: "There's a second hut on the edge,
My sister lives there own. "

Heavy him farewell road
The guards already comes from anger.
Woman looks perplexed at the door:
A stranger to it are dashing away.

"Do you, who is this black-eyed to know?"
What to say, since not seen even once?
He pushed the foreign soldier:
"You do not touch my brother!"

And suddenly he clung to his cheek barbed
From suffering and death overshadowed.
Polesie people remember this event,
The hard times at 41 m it was.

Nothing about them I do not know more
But brothers and sisters have combined a song.
Maybe in Georgia that song he hears
And the letter she writes to Belarus.