Its May... Poplar’s fluff.
Jacket worn out by destiny,
The world turned out to be deaf,
Happiness – an empty pea.
Old grey soldier
Proud of medals earned.
Begging among the tramps
Hoping we’d give him some bread.
The wind blew in his sleeve,
There’s no arm inside – lost;
Memories in fatigued eyes,
Confident of the truth of war.
Oh you – the father of Russia,
Who saved the country from destruction,
How many years you’ve been widower?
How much did they hurt you?
You should reproach, don’t be timid.
For casting you aside
For your fate of hunger
You should reproach for grey in your hair.
Your proud look
Brought us up to be patriots.
So why you are still
Without love or favour?
Old grey soldier
Proud of medals earned.
Begging among the tramps
Hoping we’d give him some bread.
Old grey soldier proud of medals earned...
© Copyright: Людмила Ларкина, 2008
Свидетельство о публикации №108082300610
Свидетельство о публикации №108082300610
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