Ordinary Valaam nursing home
For the good and the poor but not for saints.
There are a lot of crowded wards home,
For old people with neither arms nor legs.
Here the nurses can’t keep track of everything—
That’s why there are always  stench and doom here,
Everybody has a look depth carrying
In which is visible renunciation mere.
Here lived the hero of the USSR.
Wounded in battle under Krasnodar.
Like everyone else, a Soviet officer,
Just cynically called “a samovar”.
He was never discouraged for everyone—
He joked of everything and laughed heartily,
He gave useful advices to everyone,
And he only smiled at rudeness daily.
They took  veterans “out for a walk”, they
Attached the veterans to fir trees on sackcloth,
In the evening old men were removed from fir trees , they
Had to sleep. Was  forgotten the hero’s
Life. He didn’t die from multiple wounds,
He died quietly, without a cry or a sigh.
Died here so, having frozen veterans.
Together with them died the epoch, great and high.
{2020}

СМЕРТЬ ГЕРОЯ

Обычный валаамский интернат –
Не для святых, но сирых и убогих.
Здесь много переполненных палат
Для стриков безруких и безногих.
Сиделки тут за всем не уследят –
А потому здесь смрад и обречённость.
У каждого - глубокий очень взгляд,
Видна в котором только отрешённость.
Тут жил один герой СССР ,
Израненный в бою под Краснодаром.
Подобно всем, советский офицер
Цинично назывался «самоваром».
Он никогда для всех не унывал –
Шутил про всё и искренне смеялся.
Советы всем полезные давал.
В ответ на грубость – только улыбался.
Однажды «выводили» всех «гулять» -
На мешковинах к елям прицепили.
И к вечеру с деревьев сняли - спать.
А про героя начисто забыли!
Он умер не от множественных ран,
По-тихому – без крика или вздоха.
Вот так ушёл, замёрзнув, ветеран.
И с ним ушла великая эпоха!
{25.02.2020}

Translator - I. Toporov

Suffering is all I knew,
The soldiers marching through the streets
Each battalion larger than before
Kitty is in danger, along with her kind

A knock on the door knock, knock, knock
My loved ones are in danger,
My feelings alienated
Towards the cruel dictatorship

The door opened with a creak,
My mother hid behind the couch,
My father grabbed the blade,
Sunlight gleaming on its surface



The soldiers step in
I’m behind an overturned table
I hear a bang, two more
A women’s scream, a manly yell

My father and mother were gone.
The soldiers had murdered,
Destroyed the last of my joy
Taken away my pride

I ran away, over to the library
Kitty hid behind the shelf
I was not religious but I still wore the star
I was not the same so they searched for my head





I dyed my hair up to standard,
Put in colored contacts
I went outside and ran away
The soldier catching up to me

“I plead for it to stop,
The tormenting conflict.
I plead for peace,
An end to this hate.

I plead for something new.
I plead for life.
I plead for freedom.
I plead for change.”





My family divided due to death,
I stayed with the locals.
Nearly everyone was religious
In this ethnic neighborhood.

An officer came to my door
And asked for the Jews
Asked whether they were living
In the house next door.

I couldn’t do it,
I couldn’t reveal
To the soldier who waited
For the answer to appear





The survivors of the war,
They destroyed the hate,
I followed their lead,
And pushed away the horror

The memories torture me.
The memories destroy me.
The memories hurt me.
The memories sicken me.

But the liberators came
Their flag red with a sickle
Their big metal beasts
Tearing up the streets.





I risked my life because of this hope,
The hope that my family would survive.
I have lost all of it,
Because of this treachery.

I learned about the Bolsheviks,
How they liberated Russia
How they created the Soviets
And destroyed the Germans.

I did the right thing, I think
But I lost all of my friends
I live now with pain and torture
In Warsaw. Suffering.

We were ordered by military law

To elope, even before our boat had hit the shore

The bullets knocked us about, thats for sure

Dead cobbers scattered adrift, from the infantrys 1st corp

Now some mates from my own platoon, 1, 2, 3 now 4

Nobody should ever have to witness such gore

Did not matter if you were rich or poor

You were just a target, in this almighty war

If the politicians demanded, they would easily send more

Finally, the west encircled the mad beast, with a rambunctious roar

But they let the Reds go forth, who savaged all the women, like a wild boar

What was the main aim and what was the true meaning, deep down at its core, for this unholy friggin’ war?