Mikhail Lvov

Not every male-born will become man, proud.
Not every ore will be an iron, hard.
You have to melt yourself, to utterly break out,
And like the ore to sacrifice in bright.
Oh, what wild tempests wrecked your soul, fully!
But you’re, a soldier, have to bear all that:
From woman’s kiss and to your fatal bullet.
And learn to keep your battle to the end.
Your readiness to death is too your weapon.
And you use it in fighting – maybe once…
If it is needed, men die – yes, is it happens –
And for this reason, ever stay with us.


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, July, 2001