We’ve captured the village in the morning,
The enemy has not withheld its fire,
Everywhere stone and ashes, what we saw
Nothing was left, believe it.
Perhaps formerly it was beautiful village,
What is it now standing?
On the gallows, maybe a body,
Blackened poplars by flashing.
Ambient ash; who sees ashes says these are snow,
Stoves similar tombstones.
Soldier, you came here late,
The village has been waiting for you too long.
We are walking on the streets,
There is still war far away.
White ash, here and there,
Brutal, reproachful glances.
A dog suddenly appeared in front of us,
It didn’t bark us exultingly.
It looked at our faces as if it says:
”Did you see what fascists did?”
Kerim Otarov -Soviet Balkar poet. Born 1912, died Oct. 13, 1974. He has fought in the Great Patriotic War of 1941–45.
I could not…
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