Slava Olchevski

Rookie - 20 Points (1964 / St.Petersburg, Russia)

Requiem For My Grandfather - Poem by Slava Olchevski

A flock of birds, no, pack of vultures
Descends on my still breathing corpse
I'll let them have their bloody dinner
The other alternative is much worse

The birds of mercy, please, stop that pain
With your sharp beaks, cut the jugular vein
My blood will pour and will mix with earth
To born something newer and nourish its growth

Devour the flesh, but bones shall remain
Intact. They will wait for redeeming rain
That will sooth and relax my aching scull
In its magical weathering ritual

Spring will come and fresh green grass
Will become a soldier’s brand new dress
Summer flowers slyly will poke their heads
Through the spaces between my shoulder blades

I will still be able to see all around
While I slowly sink into the ground
I can see my grave covered with snow
When I tightly hug mother Earth below

I am sleeping now, like in my mother’s womb
I forgot completely, I was killed by a bomb
It happened on summer of nineteen forty one
Forgive me my God, please, take care of my son!

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Poem Submitted: Friday, December 25, 2009

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