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| Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, Moscow | |
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Some of my favorite poems from the book
Бессмертие (Immortality).
Бессмертие is an anthology of Soviet poets who laid down their lives in The Great Patriotic War (WW II). It is heart-rending to realize that some of these poems were written by youthful souls who had just begun living and how the harsh reality of war reflects through their verses.
Leonid Vilkomir (1935)
This my life shall never be repeated,
It’s no song that you can sing again.
So one day since fate cannot be cheated,
I shall also pass to death’s domain.
But whatever else I do while living,
This I beg of life before I am done:
Let me savour water, scent rough weather,
See the night stars, greet the rising Sun!
I’d like happiness to call and see me
And the finest feelings freely give.
If it’s true that death will not release me,
How shall I unlearn to think and live?
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Parting Words ~
Vassily Kubanev (1939)
We are bound to leave one day
Down this road we know so well,
Past those white-washed homes of clay,
Walking fast to catch the train.
It’s from here, among the birches,
That our childhood took start
And from here, as from a village,
Run our roads when we must part.
We shall bid a fond farewell,
Stack our luggage in our places,
Through the window we shall lean
To dear hands and smiling faces.
With a jerk the train will start.
Cottage windows flashing by,
Water-meadows whirling past,
Overhead the smoke will fly.
On the platform friends will stand,
Handkerchiefs and caps they’ll wave.
Through the sound of wheels we’ll hear
Lively farewell calls,
“May great happiness be yours.
May it be as bright and brave,
Always constant, true and clear
As the shining Milky Way.”
“Many letters may you write
When you are living far away.
May your life be smooth and bright,
Moving as great rivers flow.
May your home be light and gay,
May many windows make it glow
And, always, may the work you do
Bring happiness each day.”
Dashing down the grades our train
Will leave a wake of birds to sail,
As long bridges roar and and clatter.
Then green fields and peace again
A raconteur will start his tale...
Through the window gusts will batter,
While moving backwards, trees sweep by
And branches wave a last goodbye.
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Dream ~
Fatykh Karim (1942)
In loving all that's beautiful,
None ever rivalled me.
In striving for the joys of earth,
Surpassed I could not be.
I was in kinship with my homeland,
Brother to wood and stream...
But now, when in the heat of battle,
Of one thing do I dream.
I would become like a holy fire
To blast the enemy.
I would become devoid of fear
And pure as poetry.
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Georgi Suvorov (1944)
Grief as sharp as splintered steel
Day and night we feel...
Black smoke hangs, black ravens reel
O'er the burnt-out field.
Lilies-of-the-valley, white,
At its fringes spread.
A soldier's dying and the earth
Lies soft beneath his head.
Restless, though, a dream still lives
In his youthful soul,
As he presses lifeless lips
To his native soil.
Driven by the wind, the quiet
Drifts and melts away.
Lilies-of-the-valley, white,
O'er the soldier sway.
