was an engineer, with whom the General was sometimes curt. Occasionally, he even found himself sharing his wife's fantasy for a grandchild- the fruit of a bond between people equals in moral crudeness, but, materially, sorely mismatched. Such a fantasy contradicted his usual blasee. But he said nothing, limited himself to reconnaissance and relied heavily on his wife's bulletins from the front.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem