Nikolay Alekseyevich Nekrasov
The Russian Soldier
Then up there comes a veteran,
With medals on his breast;
He scarcely lives, but yet contrives
To drink with all the rest.
'A lucky man am I,' he cries,
And thus to prove the fact he tries.
'In what consists of a soldier's luck?
Pray, listen while I tell.
In twenty fights, or more, I've been,
And yet I never fell.
And, what is more, in peaceful times
Full meal I never knew;
Yet, all the same, I have contrived
Not to give Death his due.
Again, for sins both great and small,
Full many a time they've me
With canes unmercifully flogged,
Yet I'm alive, you see!'
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Comments about this poem (The Russian Soldier by Nikolay Alekseyevich Nekrasov )
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
William Carlos Williams
(17 September 1883 – 4 March 1963)
(18 July 1933)
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Harivansh Rai Bachchan
(27 November 1907 – 18 January 2003)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
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- वक्त का तकाजा है vakt ka takaaja hai, hasmukh amathalal