Everyone died at his post,
Do not run, do not I betrayed, did not flinch.
In the struggle for the prosperity of others,
To know more crying, pain, sorrow.
Here every inch of land and every wall
Impregnated with tears, sweat, blood.
Not for himself lived here who worked,
For those who take, theirs post
Who will remember, believe and keep,
What Every work is filled with love.
Everyone died at his post
© Copyright: Иван Земляков, 2017
Свидетельство о публикации №117012104631
Свидетельство о публикации №117012104631
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