Author of quotes: Alexander Trifonovich Tvardovsky. Page 1

And for the time being unknown,
There who is shy, who is the hero
Who's the guy wonderful
And probably was so.
The ferry, ferry...
Dark, cold. Night as a year.
But clung to the right Bank,
Stayed there the first platoon.
And silent about it guys
In combat the native circle
Looking somewhat guilty,
Who on the left Bank.

And saw for the first time
Don't forget it:
The people are warm, live
Went to the bottom, bottom, bottom...
Under the fire of confusion -
Where the, where, who, where is the connection?
Only it soon became quiet -
The ferry snapped.

The ferry, ferry!
Right Bank like a wall...
This night the trail of blood
In the sea made the wave.
It was like this: from darkness deep,
Fire vzmahnuv blade
The spotlight channel
Crossed obliquely.
And post put water
Suddenly the projectile. Pontoons are in a row.
A lot was there are some people
Our haired guys...

Behind the noise of the duct,
And the circle - a stranger night.
And he has so far
Neither to shout nor to help.
There is black and serrated,
For the cold trait
Netstory, there is no end
The forest above the black water.

Leaned, rowing, sweating,
Managed vault.
And the water is roaring to the right
Under undermined the bridge.
Now in the middle
They include circling...
And the water roars in the gorge,
Withered pieces of ice in crumbles,
Between the bent beams farm
Beats in the foam and in the dust...
And first platoon is probably
Pulls out a pole of the earth.

But guys,
In the war live soldiers,
As ever in the twentieth
Their fellow fathers.
Go that way, harsh,
That two hundred years ago
Held with a gun flint
Russian worker-soldier.
Past their temples, yet,
Malchishua near their eyes
Death in battle was whistling often
And if a Blowjob this time?

The soldiers and sail somewhere
Britain bayonets in the shadows.
And quite your guys
Immediately if they do not,
Immediately if not similar
On its own, to those guys:
Somehow all friendly and stricter
Once everything you more
And more familiar than an hour ago.
Look - really - guys!
As, in truth, inexperienced,
Blank if he is married
This sheared the people.

Night, first column,
Broken off at the edge of the ice,
Boarded the pontoons.
First platoon.
Sank, pushed off
And went. The second for him.
Braced, bent over
The third followed the second.
As the rafts went pontoons,
Thundered one another
Bass, iron tone,
Similarly, the roof under his foot.

The ferry, ferry!
Left Bank, right Bank,
Rough snow, the ice edge...
Who memory, to whom fame,
Who dark water -
No signs, no trace.

Hero sleeps, snores - and the point.
Accepts it as it is.
Well, its that's for sure.
Well, the war - so I'm here.
Asleep, forgetting about the difficult summer.
Sleep, care, not of rebellion.
Maybe tomorrow at dawn
There will be a new party.

How was it, Vasya Terkin,
From a reserve soldier,
In salted tunic
Hundreds of miles of native land.
Until then the earth is large,
The greatest land.
And was she a stranger,
Someone else, and then mine.

So he pulled up the floors,
Covering the back,
Someone's mother-in-law mentioned,
The stove and feather bed.
And clung to the damp ground,
Overcome by languor,
And he is, my hero,
Sleeps like home.
Asleep - though hungry, though well-fed,
At least one, at least in the heap.
To sleep because of the previous lack of sleep,
Sleep in stock of trained.

Heavy, wet overcoat,
Rain worked good.
Roof - the sky, hut - spruce,
Roots tight to the ribs.
But he doesn't appear to
Depressed was this,
To sleep he does not sleep
Somewhere in the world.

Well, in the newspaper, the slogan is accurate:
Don't run into the bushes but in the bread.
Tank - he seems intimidating really,
Actually, deaf and blind.
Something something blind. Lying in the gutter,
And at the heart of drudgery:
Suddenly blindly crush -
Don't see a damn thing.