Author of quotes: Julia Drunina. Page 1

Kissing.
Cried
And sang.
Went in with bayonets.
And right on the run
Girl in zastopanje overcoat
Scattered hands in the snow.
Mom!
Mom!
I reached goal...
But in the steppe, on the Bank of the Volga,
Girl in zastopanje overcoat
Scattered hands in the snow.

Bobs rye uncompressed.
Marching soldiers on it.
Step we - the girls,
Similar to guys.
No, it did not burn the hut -
Then my youth in the fire...
Go on the war guys
Similar to guys.

Still sad about overcoat,
See smoky dreams-
No, I was not able
To return from the War.
The days are flying like bullets
As shells a year...
Still not returned,
Will never return.
Where do I go?
Friend killed in the war.
And the silence heart
Began to beat me.

Don't know where I learned tenderness, -
About it don't question me.
Growing in the desert the soldiers graves,
Comes in coat of my youth.
In my eyes, a charred tube.
Fires raging in Russia.
And again never been kissed lips
The wounded boy bit.
No!
We've learned summaries
Big retreat season.
Again the fire ran of the artillery,
I'm on the armor jumped on the go.
And in the evening over the mass grave
Stood with drooping head...
Don't know where I learned tenderness, -
Maybe on the road the front...

No, it does not merit, and good luck
The girl become a soldier in the war.
If my life differently
As the Day of Victory it would shame me!
With delight we, girls, are not met:
We drove home hoarse Commissar.
So it was in the forty-first. And medals
And other regalia then...
Look back in prodymlennogo Dali:
There is no merit in the ominous year
And the highest honor Schoolgirls believed
The opportunity to die for his people.

We were standing on the Moscow river,
A warm breeze rustled her dress.
Suddenly from under the hand
Me strange look
So sometimes I look at strangers.
He looked at me and smiled:
Well, what of you
Soldiers?
How were you right
In the war?
Do you sleep in the snow,
The machine was built in their heads?
I
I can't imagine
To a worn-out soldier's boots!.
I had remembered another:
Mortars hit,
The snow was falling.
And he said to me quietly
Dear,
Like you people:
Lie here and freeze in the snow
If he had not lived in the cities...
I can't imagine
In high heels...

Rusty swamp
Weary infantry
Yes, the trench of death on the edge.
Again my heart breaks
To you, dear lads,
In the army my youth.
Rusty swamp
The weary infantry,
Smoky front edge.
Again
I'm with you, harsh
Come, my youth?..

I love you, my Army, my youth!
We, soldiers of a stock, your sons.
Forget whether, in the forty-first year,
Pinned you on my forage cap star.
I allegiance you swore in the ranks,
I allegiance you swore to fight.
Every day the West was retreating war,
Every day were coming to the temples gray hair.
Retreated the war. The fighting died down.
Returned home my peers.
Don't forget, you're forty-fifth year,
From caps my chipped star.
We are soldiers of a stock, your sons.
I love you, my Army, my youth!

I these boys like brothers
Although suitable sons.
I may not have been in Herat
They did not see the Gums,
Where Gib of assault boats
And, as if in a painful dream,
Rocked, rocked caps
The red salt wave...
Hardly able others
Not knowing the face of war,
To understand that now is nostalgia
And you are hopelessly ill-
What will you remember from now on
Not the same as fighting with bayonets,
And then, as divided in the desert
Water bitter pharynx.
In Zaryadye, in Kuzminki on Presnya
The war is knocking on your door
And, maybe, will seem fresh
You life on "citizen" now.
Forgotten eh sun of Herat,
Foreign home country?
Sharper than water, for a soldier
Confidence in each other needed.
Everyday quarrel, discord
Insignificant seem to me,
Rattle of the Afghan mountains,
Caps floating on the Gums...

- You know, Zina, I am against sadness,
But today it doesn't count.
Somewhere in the boondocks of Apple
Mother, your mother lives.
I have friends, beloved,
She was you one.
The smell in the house trough and smoke
The threshold boiling spring.
And the old lady in colorful dress
Icon candle lit.
I don't know how to write her
Damn she wasn't expecting...

Every day was bitter,
Were no rallies and banners.
In the environment were Orsha
Our battered battalion.
Zinka us led the attack,
We made it on black rye,
By craters and gullies,
Through mortal boundaries.
We are not waiting for posthumous fame,
We would like to thank to live.
... Why in bloody bandages
Svetlanoy soldier is?
Her body with his overcoat
Sheltered me, teeth clenched,
Belarusian winds sang
About Ryazan deaf gardens.

We went from a broken spruce
Wait, when will begin to lighten.
Under the two warmer overcoat
On cold, damp ground.
- You know, Julia, I am against sadness,
But today it doesn't count.
Somewhere in the boondocks of Apple
Mother, mother, my lives.
You have friends, beloved,
I have only one of her.
The smell in the house trough and smoke
The threshold boiling spring.
Old think: every Bush
Restless waiting for his daughter.
You know, Julia, I am against sadness,
But today it does not count...
Warmed up we barely
Suddenly an unexpected order: "Forward!"
Around again in the damp overcoat
Svetlanoy the soldier goes.

When, forgetting the oath, turned
In battle two gunmen ago
Caught up with them two little bullets -
Always shot without a miss combat.
Fell guys, tknuvshis in the ground with his chest.
And he staggered ran forward.
For these two it only the judge,
Who never went to a machine gun.
Then in the dugout regimental headquarters,
Paper silently taking officers,
Wrote battalion two poor Russian women
What... the death of the brave their sons have fallen.
Hundreds of times a letter was read to the people
In a remote village crying mother.
For this lie the battalion commander who will condemn?
No one dares to condemn!

Just came in from the front
Wet, cold and angry,
But in the dugout there was nobody,
And, of course, the stove fades.
So sick - not raise hands,
Not until the wood will get warm under the coat.
Lay down, but hear that again
In the trenches our hit with shrapnel.
From the dugout run out into the night,
And I rushed towards the flames.
I meet those who can help
I have quiet hands.
And that again till morning
Death crawl with me around,
Casually: "well Done, sister!" -
Shout me comrades in the award.
Yes, shining Kombat
My hands stretch out after the fight:
Chief, dear! I'm happy
Again, you're alive!