Yuri Starostin

Veteran Poet - 1,114 Points (4.07.1972.)

Borodino Mikhail Lermontov - Poem by Yuri Starostin

BORODINO Mikhail Lermontov
- Tell, uncle, it is not a gift,
Moscow burnt by a fire,
does given to the frenchman?
A battles was fighting,
Yes, talk, on is to is!
All Russia remembers is not the gift
About the day of Borodino!

- Yes, there were people in our time,
That is not a present tribe:
The bogatyrs -are not you!
The bad part share them:
A few ones goes returned from a field...
A God will do it, would not be,
We would not give Moscow!

We long silently goes receded,
Annoyingly were, do waited for a fight,
The old men did grumbled:
'What we go? On the winter quarters?
Do not dare, whether go the commanders
To crack the strangers uniforms
About a russian bayonets? '

And here a large field is found on:
To wander is it on the will!
A redoubt did constructed.
Our ones got the ears on the top!
Just a morning goes shined the guns
And the wood dark blue tops -
The frenchmen goes here as here.

I does hammered a charge into a gun hardly
Also does thought: I will treat the friend!
Lets stop, the brother monsir!
What is here to deceit, perhaps to fight;
We will go beated by the wall,
We will stand by the head
For the native land!

Two days we were in a firing.
What is a sense in such unaffair?
We did waited the third day.
Everywhere the speeches became audible:
'It is time to reach a case-shot! '
And here the night shade has fallen
In the field of the terrible fight.

I has lain down to take a nap at a gun carriage,
Also it was audible till an up,
As the frenchman do exulted.
But our camp opened was silent:
Who do cleaned the carpet, it is all beaten,
Who do sharpened the bayonet, grumbling angrily,
Biting a long moustache.

And only the sky was lighted,
All is noisy sudden has begun to move,
Goes sparkled the gard to gard.
Our colonel has been birth by the holder:
The servant to the tzar, the father to soldiers...
Yes, it is pity him: he is struck by the bulat,
He sleeps in the crude earth.

Also he said, having sparkled eyes:
'Gays! Whether Moscow is behind us?
Do died under Moscow,
As our brothers died! '
And to die we were promised,
And we have constrained a fidelity oath
in the Borodino fight.

Well there was a day! Through a smoke flying
Frenchmen goes moved, as a clouds,
And all go on our redoubt.
The uhlans with the motley badges,
The dragoons with the horse tails,
All have flown before us,
All have visited here.

To see such battles is not to you! .
The banners go rushed, as the shades,
In a smoke fire shone,
A bulat did sounded, the case-shot did squealed,
The hand of a fighters to prick was tired,
And the mountain of the bloody bodies
did disturb to a kernels fly.

The enemy tought much in that day,
That means the russian fight fortuned,
Our hand-to-hand fight! .
The Earth shivered - as our breasts,
The horses, people have mixed up in a heap,
And the volleys of the thousand tools
Have merged in a lingering howl...

Here it is darked. All were ready
Tomorow to start the new fight
And to stand up to the end...
Here a drums have cracked -
And a busurmans goes receded.
Then to account we goes the wounds,
to account the companions.

Yes, the people were in our time,
The mighty, dashing tribe:
The bogatyrs – are not you.
The bad part share them:
The few ones goes returned from a field.
A God will do it, would not be,
We would not give Moscow!

Topic(s) of this poem: war

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, March 5, 2013

Poem Edited: Wednesday, May 13, 2015

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