38 lines
859 B
Plaintext
38 lines
859 B
Plaintext
Over blue Don
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When we left edge of your darling
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And silently went to the east,
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Over blue Don,
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Under the old maple
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Your loomed shawl long.
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I did not hear your words, my love,
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But I know that you will wait for me in anguish.
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A sheet of crimson,
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And our wounds
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Burned on the river sand.
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Pitted shells, moaning steppe
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He stood over Stalingrad black smoke.
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And for a long time
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In the Volga
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I dreamed of you and Don over it.
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Through the storms and Metelitsa come February,
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As a holiday, conquered in battle.
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And here we are again
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The walls of Rostov,
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In his father's edge of the road!
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So hello, turned gray, my love!
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Let spinning and falling snow
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On the bank of the Don,
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On maple branch,
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On your tear-stained handkerchief.
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Again we leave his dear land.
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In the east - west we go,
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By the Dnieper steeps,
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For loose sands.
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Now, on the Dnieper and our house. 1943 |