Vladimir Vysotsky "Storks"
"The sky is clear this day,
But now the armor is clanking in it.
And there is a roar across our land,
And the trees are covered in
resin - they are sad.
Smoke and
the ashes rise like crosses,
The storks don't build nests on the roofs.
The ear of corn is the color
of amber, will we make it in time?
No!
It turns out we sowed in vain.
What's that amber-colored glow there?
It's a fire raging in the
field.
Everyone has scattered
away from troubles.
There are no more songbirds - crows.
And the trees in dust - towards autumn,
Those that could sing - have abandoned.
And love is not for us. Right?
What's more needed now? Hatred.
Smoke and ash rise like crosses,
There are no nests on the roofs the storks are whirring.
The forest rustles, as always, with its crowns,
And the earth and water - with groans.
But miracles are inevitable - the forest calls with pre-war sounds.
Everyone has fled to the East to escape their troubles,
There are no more songbirds, no more storks.
The air holds different sounds,
But now it thunders and clangs.
Even the clatter of hooves - with a stomp,
If someone screams - in a whisper.
Everyone has fled to the East to escape their troubles,
And there are no storks above the rooftops."
