Somebody shot at me with rifle,
Making an end of my life-mayhem.
So, if you think it isn’t real,
Here you are, my dear friend, will:
Six hundred deaths!
Six thousand strikes!
Show me their legs,
Who first will rise.
Your life, my death…
Who dares? Who cares?
I heard your breath,
While choked with chains.
My words of pain must be in list,
Cause without this, you won’t insist.
So bad idea was – reveal
Your destination of a devil.
You just have no things to regret
What you have done, all must forget.
But your behavior is forgiven
For all your bullets you have ridden.
I have cried and lied on grounds
When died in the warfare sounds.
Well, all in all, it’s not a trial
And here you are my, dear friend, will…
(Д.А.Матвеев)
23.03.2012 год