Volokhov. A soldier with a cold in a trench in

A soldier with a cold in a trench in winter, snow
Three o’clock in the morning, enemy tanks on the attack
The soldier has pneumonia, there’s no penicillin
No warm bed for him in the nearest infirmary

The soldier with a cold no longer wants to live
He spits blood on the snow as his temperature nears forty
The nearest enemy tank is 100 metres away
And with his barrel pointed at an infantryman

The soldier rises to his feet, advances to the tank with a grenade, smiling
And it seems to him that his beloved flies towards him instead of the tank
That he holds flowers in his hand and not a grenade
He wants so much to embrace his beloved

Even the tank is hypnotized and dares not shoot
T i me stopped the war for a moment of love for this soldier and the tank
But the next moment a shell flies from the tank and pierces the soldier’s breast
No penicillin, it’s no longer necessary





28.02.2022