42 lines
1.3 KiB
Plaintext
42 lines
1.3 KiB
Plaintext
The Ballad of colors
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He was red as of mushrooms ragout,
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Red, like oranges in the snow.
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Mother joked, his mother was in good spirits:
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"I gave birth to a son of the sun!"
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And the other was black and black with her,
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Black, as if charred resin.
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Laughed at her with questions,
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He said: "Too night was black!"
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At forty-one, forty memorable year,
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Shouted loudspeakers trouble.
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Two sons, both of the two, salt of the earth -
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Mother bowed from the waist. And gone.
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It happened in the battle to sense the young
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Auburn furious fire and black smoke,
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Wicked stagnant green fields,
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Gray frontline hospitals.
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Two sons, both of the two, the two wings
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We fought to win. The mother waited.
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Not anger, not cursed her fate.
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Funerals went around her house.
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Lucky her happiness suddenly halts.
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Lucky one to three villages around.
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Lucky her. Lucky her! Lucky!
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Both sons gates to the village.
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Two sons, both of the two, the flesh and become.
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Golden medals count.
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Sons sit side by side - shoulder to shoulder.
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Hands are safe, legs intact - what else!
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Drink green wine, as he was commanded.
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Both the color of the hair has changed -
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Became deadly white hair ...
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One can see a lot of white paint from the war.
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Russian Soviet songs (1917-1977).
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Comp. N. Kryukov and I. Shvedov.
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M., "artist. lit. "1977 1970 |