M.Matusovsky, The Foul Weather Was Dictating - Transl (Rus.) Poem by Lyudmila Purgina

M.Matusovsky, The Foul Weather Was Dictating - Transl (Rus.)



The foul weather was dictating me the lines
In a moist earth-hut during day or night.
For four and more years I was rhyming
The concrete with iron, and the lead with fire.
And if these records of the past
I read to you when meet again either,
Then let you feel the taste of gunpowder
On lips, when I describe it now.
And you, all catched with those feelings
Of the past days, forgotten time,
Might stay before my Muse, called infantry,
With agitation in your mind.

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Lyudmila Purgina

Lyudmila Purgina

Russian Federation
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