A Winter Storm In Stalingrad Poem by Maurice Rowlands

To my love
The Germans have entered the city
They are calling it their Winter Storm
Maybe by dawn
This war shall be over

How is Dover
Are our cliffs still white
Or do they now run red
With our brethren blood
This is my fear

I wished to send roses my dear
But their petals here
Are all scorched red
Like the skies
Above Stalingrad

I wish I were still a lad
Running through the grass
This dark time will pass
And I can hold your hand
Back in our land so fair

How is it there
Are they also killing Jews
Did you ever get your shoes
Repaired by that sweet Jewish man
He was always so sound

Down on the ground
Here in Stalingrad
Operation Little Saturn
Threatens to burn
Away our sweet love

Oh my love
The women here
Fight too you know
In their tanks
They give no thanks

Down by the river banks
Beneath the apple blossom
I asked for your hand
In our fair land
Beneath our blue skies

Is it all lies
Heaven and Hell
And all in between
Comes right now as I sit here
I would love a cold beer

I miss you my dear
But the Germans are near
Please say hello to my dad
From his son here in Stalingrad
My heart should be flame red

But my heart is blue instead
I heard you found a new love
This makes me so sad
As I fight from above
The Battle of Stalingrad