October 3-4, 1993 - 25 years from the date of execution of the Supreme Soviet of the Russian Federation
WHO WILL REPLACE ME?
"I am killed under Rzhev ..."
Alexander Twardowski
I am killed in the White House.
I stood to the end.
In this hub in Sodom
Have you seen off the fighter?
Days fly like crazy
That rustling, then ringing,
But please, relatives,
Do not forget me.
After all, with me were next
All the people, the whole country
In this house damned
At the eighth by the window.
He was white by right
But, becoming black then,
He will be bloody
Since then forever.
I was injured at first,
and at half four
Two riot police drunk
Shoot me.
I did not confess
Seeing their anger and ardor,
In that I am eighteen,
I have not yet loved.
After all, they did not spare
And younger than me.
Now we are all in a tomb -
We are a big family.
In the walls of the Black House
Flame devoured me.
Everything is there like straw
Died in the tornado of fire.
What is far and what is close -
All the fire consumed.
There was a receipt
What I paid for the coffin.
Full of pain and anger,
I fell with the thought that
What is so under Rzhev
My grandfather is forty-two.
True, he lived longer
And the enemy slew him
And I was destroyed
Your scoundrel and fool.
I burned in this house
On the eighth floor.
Nothing more than
Shadows in your soul.
Although a piece of Russia
I defended myself
But to find out was not valid,
What ended the battle.
If you backtracked,
If you throw a flag, -
Like me even in the grave
Even dead - how?
Like a little
Find me peace?
How to appear before God
In a heart with pain like that?
Even in my soul
His speeches included:
- Against tanks and guns
What could you, my son, do?
But he gave is not in vain
Life before the time
There are Red Banners
Now the blood and filth.
There are no big words here,
But - always you herd -
Why did you not see us nearby
Patriots tribunes?
But right and left
Felt all my gut
Those who fell under Rzhev
In the terrible forty-second.
Our union will not be destroyed,
We are a single squad.
Our sorrowful souls
Over Russia soar.
It is left and right
We need to be hard to know
When the house is bloody
Get together again.
And the killers will have no cover
Neither law nor armor ...
I am killed in the White House ...
Who will replace me?
So that the word of the poet
For people's power,
If it is narrowed,
Step further fall.
But to the joy of the Motherland
And on the mountain to the enemy
I wish you life.
That's all I can.
Vladimir Bushin
December 1993
