Both joyful and bitter….
To march in the ranks of sons
Carry the portrait, and that's it
The spirit freezes again
Out of pride for Russians
For our mothers
Clenching fist with a crunching sound
We remember... more and more
How the enemy burned villages
How dreams were killed
How he cut off all the songs
Sounding for miles
About not giving up!
In the fight for a bright world
Hold on to the handle
Strike the plague and feast
Portraits come to life
In minds, hearts, eyes
And they strengthen memory
About mothers, fathers...
S. Myskin
Editor-in-Chief