Грот

under the ardent flame even bend steel bars ,
addictive sleep - I know it's not wake up ,
the wind gets stronger , the cries last night ,
I close my eyes and understand that my fight is over !
keep your heart and do not say ,
at a distant cloud I hear laughter - I meet her !
beside me not be late and do not you dare to retreat ,
home - where my smile a smile of my children,
letters are flying over the sea starting from the Cape ,
and only for you, my list was inscribed with the blood ,
after decades echoes hear me moan
it will come at crumpled notebook sheet ,
to you smiling star on the roofs lay
I gave my life on the outskirts of the main frontiers ,
letters fly through the years , going through all the wars ,
right in our time looking for worthy !

Letters to the looking for you and wherever I wrote ,
I see only the number of empty rooms in all of these locations ,
and with the most unearthly minutes to tie the clue ...
the road to our house let die just keeps !

children are lost, adults pulling their sleeves,
before the fear of surprise , the reality of law,
I feel that the house is already there, but the house did not find.
the first wave of the projectile has a memory.
in our yard for a special ring dew,
first in the houses facades not burn, but addresses
burning city parks full of memorable meetings ,
one - to restore , the other - at any price to save !
our treasure invisible, the world of communication so fragile,
immortality in the nature of life - so act.
Guardians of the addresses we do not forgive ,
the same city for almost 70 years later.
with the adjustment of fire , fire is no longer necessary ,
Rockets harness Fatherland without touching the facade.
War , as a revelation , the regenerator sense
The house is not the walls and windows, it does not address the number ...

Letters to the looking for you and wherever I wrote ,
I see only the number of empty rooms in all of these locations ,
and with the most unearthly minutes to tie the clue ...
the road to our house let die just keeps !