Аннотация: это мой стишок, я его перевела недавно на английский
Boys, you are damned with ghosts of battles and passions.
Moms, you are damned with seeing-off you sons to fires.
I am ashamed to live, when blood is fresh all over flowers and grass.
Who else's sorry head is rolling to the ditch this very minute?
Who else's lovely legs are getting tired to walk this moment?
Whose beautiful eyes are getting foggy right now?
Whose innocent face turns cold and pale?
I feel creep to think about constellations of medals.
Don't stomp a winter crop!
Tender ones, one more effort!
There is no Death, while Love is alive...
October 2007