Metronome beats hard back in lead August.
caliber shot is large in year the forty-second.
death and starvation on streets. Death is - in dugouts.
tears in the eyes f reeze because of dark invasion.
Unprecedented resistance makes their voices hoarse ...
Flurry live music - it is the main gauge.
There is Conductor's wand, and a trumpet's solo.
the shots of drums aims at copper foreheads.
And the besiegers have wavered, as from a real wounds:
Fire symphony - it is as hurricane.
Shostakovich's music. 'Enemy at the Gates'...
But on the streets of Leningrad enemy will not pass!
translation from Sevostianov A.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
this is the epitome of high-class poetry.................this is well-crafted..extremely magnificent....enjoyed it