The fight is hard and pitiless
The fight is epic, as they say.
I fell. Another takes my place -
Why single out a name?
After the firing squad - the worms.
Thus does the single logic go.
But in the storm we'll be with you,
My people, for we loved you so.
2 PM, 23 July 1942
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem