It seems to me sometimes that all the soldiers
That haven’t come back from the bloody plains
Did not lay in the earth as they had told you
But rather they have turned into white cranes
And to this day from that old distant hour
They reach us with their voices as they fly
Isn’t it why so often and so sour
We cease the talking, gazing at the sky
The wedge of cranes so weary of migration,
They lance the evenings for the place to be
And I can see a gap in their formation
And could it be, the gap is there for me?
The day will come when with the flock I’m having
To flow there in the same one misty flow
And like a bird call out from under heaven
You all whom I have left there down below
Журавли English Translation
© Copyright: Иван Неясыть, 2023
Свидетельство о публикации №123102902149
Свидетельство о публикации №123102902149
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