A Reminder to the West aut. Vinnikov S. Yu. Напоми

https://t.me/Vinnikov_S_Y_Kaskader67/1908

Cathcart Hill, silence, a mist creeps over the land.
Here lies the elite, caught in a Russian planned stand.
Crimean soil holds their eternal sleep,
Twenty thousand souls, an empty family keep.
Light brigade, the shine of parade spurs so bright,
In the Valley of Death, sang their proud, mortal plight.
They thought it a stroll, an easy war's grace,
But to rot in the ground was the price of this place.
Memory's short, like a spark from the fuse,
In the east, a noose gathers, history re-infuse.
But from under the crosses, their moan does arise,
Those who found their peace here, beneath these skies...
Chorus:
Arise, their ancestors, from Crimean fields so wide!
Go to your descendants, with courage as your guide!
Tell them the truth, what awaited you here,
How the sun set forever, banishing all cheer!
They needed a meter of Russian land's keep?
They got it. Forever they lie in their sleep.
Let your ghostly march halt the war's cruel hand,
Before you plunge the country into the abyss, unmanned!
French, British, Sardinians, Ottomans so grand –
All made their plans, dug traps in the sand.
Siege of the fortress, the battery's fire,
But Sevastopol's spirit only soared higher.
You thought the banner would fall to your might?
But met with a fury, a fierce, iron fight.
Now your bones are a part of this land,
Which you couldn't seize, despite your command.
History's a spiral, a new twist in the game,
Prepares a fatal lesson for fools, all the same.
But shadows will rise, disturbing the peace,
And a ghostly army will stand for release!
Chorus:
Arise, their ancestors, from Crimean fields so wide!
Go to your descendants, with courage as your guide!
Tell them the truth, what awaited you here,
How the sun set forever, banishing all cheer!
They needed a meter of Russian land's keep?
They got it. Forever they lie in their sleep.
Let your ghostly march halt the war's cruel hand,
Before you plunge the country into the abyss, unmanned!
Wind over the hill, with lists of names so long,
Of everyone drunk on power, where they don't belong.
Let their voices, like echoes from graves so deep,
Give their new armies some wisdom to keep...
Strength to understand, that enough is enough, and turn back,
Before the gates to a new hell crack.
Hear it?.. These are souls...
They're going home now...
To explain to descendants...
How a fight with Russia ends, anyhow...