Александр Трифонович Твардовский. Я убит подо Ржевом. "И...

Alexander Trifonovich Twardowski. I am killed under Rzhev.
"And the dead, the mute,
 There is one joy:
 We fell for our homeland
 But she is saved. "
 
 
 
 I'm killed under Rzhev
 In a nameless swamp
 In the fifth company, on the left,
 With a cruel raid.
 I didn’t hear the break
 I did not see that flash, -
 Like a precipice from a cliff -
 And neither the bottom nor the tire.
 And in this whole world,
 Until the end of his days
 No lapels, no lashes
 From my tunic.
 I am where the roots are blind
 Seeking food in the dark;
 I am where with a cloud of dust
 Rye walks on a hill;
 I am where the cock cry
 At the dawn of the dew;
 I - where are your cars
 Air tear on the highway;
 Where's the blade of grass to the blade of grass
 The grass river spins, -
 Where to the wake
 Even the mother will not come.
 
 Count live
 How long ago
 Was at the front for the first time
 Suddenly named Stalingrad.
 The front burned, not subsiding
 Like a scar on the body.
 I'm killed and don't know
 Is Our Rzhev Finally?
 Have our
 There, on the Middle Don? ..
 This month was scary
 Everything was at stake.
 Really until the fall
 Don was already behind him
 And at least wheels
 He escaped to the Volga?
 No it is not true. Tasks
 Toy did not win the enemy!
 No, no! Otherwise
 Even to the dead - how?
 And the dead, the mute
 There is one joy:
 We fell for our homeland
 But she is saved.
 Our eyes faded
 The flame of the heart went out
 On Earth in Verification
 They do not call out to us.
 Us their fighting
 Do not wear orders.
 You - all this, living.
 We - one joy:
 That not without reason they fought
 We are for the motherland.
 May our voice not be heard
 You must know him.
 You should have been brothers
 Stand like a wall
 For the curse of the dead -
 This punishment is scary.
 This is a formidable right.
 It’s forever given to us, -
 And after us it is -
 This is a bitter right.
 In the summer, at forty-two,
 I am buried without a grave.
 All that came later
 Death cheated on me.
 To all that maybe a long time ago
 You are familiar and clear
 But let it be
 According to our faith.
 
 Brothers maybe you
 And don’t have lost,
 And in the rear of Moscow
 They were dying for her.
 And in the Volga region
 Hastily dug trenches,
 And with the battles reached
 To the limit of Europe.
 We only need to know
 Which was undoubtedly
 That last span
 On the military road.
 That last span
 What if you leave
 That stepped back
 There’s nowhere to put a leg.
 That line of depth
 Which stood up
 Because of your back
 Flames of forges of the Urals.
 And the enemy was turned
 You are west, back.
 Maybe twins
 And is Smolensk already taken?
 And you smash the enemy
 At a different frontier,
 Maybe you're to the border
 Come on already!
 Maybe ... Yes, come true
 The word of the holy oath! -
 After all, Berlin, if you remember,
 It was named near Moscow.
 The Brothers Who Are Now Dead
 Fortress of the enemy land
 If the dead, the fallen
 If only they could cry!
 If the volleys were victorious
 Us mute and deaf
 Us that eternity is committed,
 Resurrected for a moment, -
 Oh loyal comrades
 Only then on a warrior
 Your happiness is immense
 You have fully comprehended.
 In him, that happiness, indisputable
 Our blood part
 Ours, torn by death,
 Faith, hatred, passion.
 Our everything! Not deceitfully
 We are in a tough fight
 Having given everything, did not leave
 Nothing to carry.
 
 Everything is listed on you
 Forever, not for a period.
 And not rebuke alive
 This voice is your imaginable.
 Brothers in this war
 We did not know the difference:
 Those that are alive, that have fallen -
 We were on a par.
 And no one is in front of us
 Of the living, not in debt
 Who is the banner of our hands
 Caught on the run
 So that for a holy cause,
 For the Soviet power
 Just maybe for sure
 Step down further.
 I'm killed under Rzhev
 He is still near Moscow.
 Somewhere, warriors, where are you,
 Who stayed alive?
 In the cities of millions,
 In villages, at home in the family?
 In the military garrisons
 On not our land?
 Oh, is it your own? alien
 All in flowers il in the snow ...
 I will bequeath your life, -
 What more can I do?
 Will in that life
 You be happy
 And to the birthplace
 With honor to continue to serve.
 To grieve proudly
 Without bowing your head
 Rejoicing - Not Boasting
 At the hour of victory itself.
 And take care of her holy
 Brothers, your happiness -
 In memory of the warrior brother
 What died for her.