{"id":2259,"date":"2026-04-02T22:16:09","date_gmt":"2026-04-02T18:16:09","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/volokhov.net\/?page_id=2259"},"modified":"2026-04-02T22:40:07","modified_gmt":"2026-04-02T18:40:07","slug":"poems-translated-into-english","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/volokhov.net\/?page_id=2259","title":{"rendered":"Poems Translated into English"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<h4 class=\"wp-block-heading\">TRULY THIS IS SO<\/h4>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-embed is-type-video is-provider-youtube wp-block-embed-youtube wp-embed-aspect-16-9 wp-has-aspect-ratio\"><div class=\"wp-block-embed__wrapper\">\n<iframe loading=\"lazy\" title=\"Mikhail Volokhov (lyrics) - Truli this is so. Music - Aleksey Olkhovic\" width=\"640\" height=\"360\" src=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/embed\/V-ZQik2YvhQ?feature=oembed\" frameborder=\"0\" allow=\"accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share\" referrerpolicy=\"strict-origin-when-cross-origin\" allowfullscreen><\/iframe>\n<\/div><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<details class=\"wp-block-details is-layout-flow wp-block-details-is-layout-flow\"><summary>Text of the poem<\/summary>\n<p>EVERYONE HAS EARS<br>EVERYONE HAS EARS<br>EVERYONE HAS EARS<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>THEY HEAR<br>THEY HEAR<br>THEY HEAR<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>EVERYONE HAS EYES<br>EVERYONE HAS EYES<br>EVERYONE HAS EYES<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>THEY SEE<br>THEY SEE<br>THEY SEE<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>EVERYONE HAS A NOSE<br>EVERYONE HAS A NOSE<br>EVERYONE HAS A NOSE<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>IT BREATHES<br>IT BREATHES<br>IT BREATHES<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>EVERYONE HAS FEET<br>EVERYONE HAS FEET<br>EVERYONE HAS FEET<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>THEY WALK<br>THEY WALK<br>THEY WALK<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>EVERYONE HAS HANDS<br>EVERYONE HAS HANDS<br>EVERYONE HAS HANDS<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>THEY PROTECT<br>THEY PROTECT<br>THEY PROTECT<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>FROM WHOM<br>FROM WHOM<br>FROM WHOM<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>FROM ME<br>FROM ME<br>FROM ME<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>WHO ARE YOU<br>WHO ARE YOU<br>WHO ARE YOU<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I AM YOUR DEATH<br>YOURS<br>YOURS<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I DON\u2019T SEE YOU<br>YOU<br>YOU<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>THAT IS BECAUSE<br>BECAUSE<br>BECAUSE<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I CAME TO YOU<br>TO YOU<br>TO YOU<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>TO SEND YOU<br>SEND YOU<br>SEND YOU<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>ALONG THE LIGHT BRIGHT PATH<br>ALONG THE LIGHT BRIGHT PATH<br>ALONG THE LIGHT BRIGHT PATH<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>AT THE END OF THIS PATH<br>AT THE END OF THIS PATH<br>AT THE END OF THIS PATH<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I WILL BE WAITING FOR YOU<br>I WILL BE WAITING FOR YOU<br>I WILL BE WAITING FOR YOU<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I WILL BE WAITING FOR YOU<br>I WILL BE WAITING FOR YOU<br>I WILL BE WAITING FOR YOU<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I WILL BE WAITING FOR YOU<br>I WILL BE WAITING FOR YOU<br>I WILL BE WAITING FOR YOU<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>TRULY THIS IS SO<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Paris, 06.10.2024<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n<\/details>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<h4 class=\"wp-block-heading\">THE HAPPY PEOPLE LEAVE FRANCE<\/h4>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-embed is-type-video is-provider-youtube wp-block-embed-youtube wp-embed-aspect-16-9 wp-has-aspect-ratio\"><div class=\"wp-block-embed__wrapper\">\n<iframe loading=\"lazy\" title=\"Mikhail Volokhov (lyrics) - The happy people leave France. Music - Aleksey Olkhovic\" width=\"640\" height=\"360\" src=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/embed\/PyuWvbBy5dk?feature=oembed\" frameborder=\"0\" allow=\"accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share\" referrerpolicy=\"strict-origin-when-cross-origin\" allowfullscreen><\/iframe>\n<\/div><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<details class=\"wp-block-details is-layout-flow wp-block-details-is-layout-flow\"><summary>Text of the poem<\/summary>\n<p>The happy ones leave France<br>Leaving Nantes and the Loire Valley<br>Nice \u2013 the flowing Seine \u2013 Paris<br>And the Atlantic Ocean coast<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>You lived in Paris for ten whole years<br>Without immigrant crap dishes<br>Love saved you wonderfully there<br>Paris turned on the green light in your destiny<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>It was kind to you for a good ten years<br>The colour of its roofs \u2013 like the smoky sky\u2019s course<br>You preserved it \u2013 like a talisman against troubles<br>A pledge of luck and love for all<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Paris doesn\u2019t want to know why a person is there<br>So fond of music \u2013 theatre \u2013 dancing<br>Paris is so beautiful \u2013 that one could spend a whole century<br>Silently admiring Paris alone<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Paris gave me you again<br>Walks through Versailles, the theatres<br>And cigarettes with coffee in Montmartre<br>We smoked with all our happy strength<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Notre Dame Cathedral<br>As before I fed<br>All the pigeons of the Latin Quarter<br>And we scattered sunflower seeds on the Place Notre Dame<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>So that joy would be passionately revived<br>Among the pigeons<br>Among us<br>Lovers and the living<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Sublime Paris in its memories<br>Holds no grudge against those who settled there<br>And the grinding of the guillotine \u2013 the severed heads<br>Paris does not remember with a shudder<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>And the Parisian cemetery of P\u00e8re Lachaise<br>Lives \u2013 flourishes \u2013 without the guillotine, it becomes denser<br>Here, a famous man falls silent<br>And Paris also likes this very much<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The estate \u2013 Notre Dame \u2013 a Gothic connection<br>And all the striving of thought to the heavens<br>The reeds sway \u2013 the wind has come<br>And, having dispersed the clouds, it cleared the abysses of the heights<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>And the stars in the sky \u2013 with the stargazing moon<br>Gave everyone happy prophecies<br>All cities without candy wrappers<br>But Paris in the evening \u2013 warmed by the lamps<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>We really love<br>For our chocolate projects<br>There\u2019s coffee \u2013 like ink, warming the poets<br>In retro coffee cups<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>And you, like a coffee addict,<br>Fall in love with a girl that very evening<br>Who walks towards you<br>A completely Living Chocolate<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Hot Coffee Candy<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Mikhail Volokhov<br>2020<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n<\/details>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<h4 class=\"wp-block-heading\"><strong>SANYOK, THERE&#8217;S NO MORE SOBRE STORY IN THE WORLD THAN THE STORY OF ROMEO AND JULIET<\/strong><\/h4>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-embed is-type-video is-provider-youtube wp-block-embed-youtube wp-embed-aspect-16-9 wp-has-aspect-ratio\"><div class=\"wp-block-embed__wrapper\">\n<iframe loading=\"lazy\" title=\"M. Volokhov (lyrics) - Sanyok, there&#039;s no more sobre story in the world than... Music - A. Olkhovic\" width=\"640\" height=\"360\" src=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/embed\/awpp4gtkr2E?feature=oembed\" frameborder=\"0\" allow=\"accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share\" referrerpolicy=\"strict-origin-when-cross-origin\" allowfullscreen><\/iframe>\n<\/div><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<details class=\"wp-block-details is-layout-flow wp-block-details-is-layout-flow\"><summary>Text of the poem<\/summary>\n<p>Sanyok, a brother from our neighbourhood, beat up everyone in our city<br>That&#8217;s why he was our main<br>our dearest centre-block gangster.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He was a light heavyweight in the boxing ring of our quarter \u2013 he forged victories<br>mostly with straight punches.<br>He knocked everyone out in the first round<br>and left them bleeding on the floor.<br>Out on the street, he had fifty knife wounds on his body from fights \u2013 two through-and-through.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>With the last bloody one \u2013 from Tolyan<br>we dragged him in our arms for almost an hour \u2013 from the nearby local vacant lot \u2013 our Sanka.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>To keep the blood from going inside his body \u2013 to keep Sanyok from dying before the hospital \u2013<br>he fought for all of us so we<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Alone remained<br>in charge in the city, the main ones<br>such wolves<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Tolyan, the northern jackal\u2019s biggest moron<br>He didn\u2019t know a thing about boxing<br>That\u2019s why he right away stuck a bayonet into Sanka\u2019s chest with a grudge<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>But even with the bayonet in his chest<br>Our Sanka broke Tolyan\u2019s neck with his signature blow \u2013 a clever hook.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Tolyan was already being taken away, like the corpse of a trooper,<br>from the northern wastelands<br>And our city, thanks to Sanka, was ours.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>And Sanya recovered after a couple of weeks<br>And said so sternly-slowly:<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Not a single northern Jackal \u2013 a vomiting trooper \u2013 will live on our land here anymore \u2013 swamp scum.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>And every day we began<br>Beating the northern jackals with steel bars and knives<br>till they bled<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>And the northern jackals didn\u2019t really resist<br>our bloody onslaught.<br>When Tolya pegged it in a fight with Sanka<br>They lost heart abruptly \u2013 the vile northerners<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>And we would have taken care of all the northerners, along with their snotty little brothers, so they wouldn\u2019t take revenge \u2013 when our northern blood boys grow up \u2013 for their older brothers<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Which, I repeat for the slow-witted \u2013 have already been torn apart and cut up almost all of them<br>We!!!!<br>But!!!!<br>Sanyok said \u2013 You mugs!!!!<br>Sicilians aren\u2019t the mafiosi!!!!<br>Completely without Morals!!!!<br>Not Us!!!!<br>We\u2019re Russian guys!!!!<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I\u2019m sure they\u2019ll understand \u2013 then we&#8217;ll be the brave and right ones!<br>Fighters!!!!<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>What d\u2019you think?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>And we told Sanka!!!!<br>If the boys don&#8217;t understand their crap \u2013 those filthy northern bitches \u2013 then we&#8217;ll finish them off \u2013 sort them out!!!!<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>And the bitches don\u2019t interfere any more<br>in our city squabbles<br>with their rules and lousy business!!!!<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>And two years later, everything turned out super<br>Sanyok fell in love with Tolya\u2019s daughter \u2013 the Russian Alyona!<br>His favourite \u2013 since tenth grade!<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>And such a love blossomed between them.<br>Like in \u2018Romeo and Juliet\u2019 \u2013 by that there Shakespeare<br>Twins were born \u2013 a boy and a girl.<br>They were the same age<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>And they called Sanka and Alyona\u2019s children<br>Juliet and Romeo after that author \u2013 that Shakespeare<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>That was the wish of Tolya\u2019s widow, Olya \u2013 a school teacher<br>from the north, who taught drawing \u2013<br>in memory of her done-for Tolya<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Who called Olya \u2018Juliet\u2019 all his life, since school<br>and she called him \u2018Romeo\u2019 \u2013 in return<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>In short!<br>They made up!<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>We\u2019re hoping to be friends with the northerners for a long time now \u2013<br>like family, like blood brothers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Plus, up there in the north, they have girls with firm and visible breasts<br>with absolutely royally spacious butts<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Three blocks away, sex bombs<br>your eyes start firing at them<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>And so everyone must go through life for a long time \u2013 with love<br>and only forward, most importantly \u2013<br>without looking back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Where, in my opinion, there\u2019s more than just darkness<br>but also love \u2013 so cool<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>And ahead \u2013 let\u2019s hope \u2013<br>everything will be like this again \u2013<br>Shakespearean love, true \u2013 real<br>in people who are strong and solid<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>And you can hit the bitches in the face<br>in the snout with a fist, a sledgehammer, or a heel \u2013<br>on the bitch\u2019s nose \u2013 through their whole stupid brain \u2013<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Yeah, fuck<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>There\u2019s no more ringing story in the world \u2013<br>than the tale of Romeo and Juliet<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Mikhail Volokhov<br>Paris, 2021<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n<\/details>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<h4 class=\"wp-block-heading\"><strong>A SOLDIER WITH A COLD IN TRENCH IN WINTER, SNOW<\/strong><\/h4>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-embed is-type-video is-provider-youtube wp-block-embed-youtube wp-embed-aspect-16-9 wp-has-aspect-ratio\"><div class=\"wp-block-embed__wrapper\">\n<iframe loading=\"lazy\" title=\"Mikhail Volokhov (lyrics) - A soldier with a cold in trench in winter, show. Music - A. Olkhovic\" width=\"640\" height=\"360\" src=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/embed\/gRRRxhXx0-M?feature=oembed\" frameborder=\"0\" allow=\"accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share\" referrerpolicy=\"strict-origin-when-cross-origin\" allowfullscreen><\/iframe>\n<\/div><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<details class=\"wp-block-details is-layout-flow wp-block-details-is-layout-flow\"><summary>Text of the poem<\/summary>\n<p>A soldier with a cold in a trench in winter, snow<br>Three o\u2019clock in the morning, enemy tanks on the attack<br>The soldier has pneumonia, there\u2019s no penicillin<br>No warm bed for him in the nearest infirmary<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The soldier with a cold no longer wants to live<br>He spits blood on the snow as his temperature nears forty<br>The nearest enemy tank is 100 metres away<br>And with his barrel pointed at an infantryman<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The soldier rises to his feet, advances to the tank with a grenade, smiling<br>And it seems to him that his beloved flies towards him instead of the tank<br>That he holds flowers in his hand and not a grenade<br>He wants so much to embrace his beloved<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Even the tank is hypnotized and dares not shoot<br>T i me stopped the war for a moment of love for this soldier and the tank<br>But the next moment a shell flies from the tank and pierces the soldier\u2019s breast<br>No penicillin, it\u2019s no longer necessary<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>28.02.2022<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n<\/details>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<h4 class=\"wp-block-heading\">THE MAN WHO WILL DIE IN MY PLAY<\/h4>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-embed is-type-video is-provider-youtube wp-block-embed-youtube wp-embed-aspect-16-9 wp-has-aspect-ratio\"><div class=\"wp-block-embed__wrapper\">\n<iframe loading=\"lazy\" title=\"Mikhail Volokhov (lyrics) - The man who will die in my play. Music - Aleksey Olkhovic\" width=\"640\" height=\"360\" src=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/embed\/-dh9VLH0G-A?feature=oembed\" frameborder=\"0\" allow=\"accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share\" referrerpolicy=\"strict-origin-when-cross-origin\" allowfullscreen><\/iframe>\n<\/div><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<details class=\"wp-block-details is-layout-flow wp-block-details-is-layout-flow\"><summary>Text of the poem<\/summary>\n<p>The man who will die in my play<br>will first remove his skin and hang it on the chair<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>And the chair will say<br>shrugging its shoulders<br>your death is not my problem<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The rose in a vase will intervene<br>and cite as an example the crystal vase:<br>I\u2019m dying in the vase and the vase doesn\u2019t care<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>it only gleams with all its facets<br>and the chair will say<br>those are your problems<br>Then the grumpy sofa will remember<br><br>Once a man stood on this chair with a noose at his neck,<br>and the chair rejoiced as it was kicked aside<br>and the man\u2019s legs hung in the air<br>And the chair will say<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>JUST GO AWAY<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The man who will die in my play<br>may remove his skin<br>but respecting the chair<br>let him throw it to the floor<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The chair has its own problems<br>And after all<br>this is just<br>A PLAY<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Paris, 1992<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n<\/details>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<h4 class=\"wp-block-heading\"><strong>AN OLD WOMAN WANTS TO FLY TO PARADISE LIKE A HEAVENLY BIRD<\/strong><\/h4>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-embed is-type-video is-provider-youtube wp-block-embed-youtube wp-embed-aspect-16-9 wp-has-aspect-ratio\"><div class=\"wp-block-embed__wrapper\">\n<iframe loading=\"lazy\" title=\"M. Volokhov (lyrics) - An old woman wants to fly to paradise like a heavenly bird. Music - Olkhovic\" width=\"640\" height=\"360\" src=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/embed\/mFWtmqJii8M?feature=oembed\" frameborder=\"0\" allow=\"accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share\" referrerpolicy=\"strict-origin-when-cross-origin\" allowfullscreen><\/iframe>\n<\/div><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<details class=\"wp-block-details is-layout-flow wp-block-details-is-layout-flow\"><summary>Text of the poem<\/summary>\n<p>In an old village house \u2013<br>on the bank of a frozen river \u2013<br>on an unlit stove \u2013 lies an old woman<br>And wants to fly to paradise like a heavenly bird<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Neither eats nor sleeps \u2013 three days \u2013 waiting for a neighbour<br>To chop wood<br>Ske\u2019s frozen \u2013 Winter<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Minus thirty-eight<br>But she wants to die \u2013<br>that\u2019s for sure<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>A book by Khlebnikov lies nearby<br>She opened it \u2013<br>but doesn\u2019t read it<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Whispering to herself \u2013<br>she was a Russian teacher \u2013<br>in the past at school<br>With sad thoughts \u2013 her own poems<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>A plastic radio from her husband hangs in the corner<br>And chatters about minus thirty-eight in the yard<br>She\u2019s all alone on earth, lingering<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Military photos on the main wall of the house<br>A framed article from the newspaper Pravda<br>Tells about the heroism of her brother<br>In the Great Patriotic War \u2013 a soldier<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>An icon hangs just below this article<br>And below the icon is another framed article<br>From the year 1938<br>When our people \u2013 the enemies of the people \u2013 thirsted for blood<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>And killed all the kulaks \u2013 like countless murderers<br>Waited for the Morozov Pavliks<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The old woman\u2019s father \u2013 was then shot<br>Because he had a sack of grain \u2013 like a fist \u2013 for the family \u2013<br>In the cellar<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>So as not to die in the winter \u2013<br>for their village family \u2013 was large<br>The younger one \u2013 was gone already<br>She said goodbye to her brother during the war \u2013 barely alive<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>And this is her brother \u2013 in the year forty-one of the war<br>He died near Yelnya \u2013 like Matrosov<br>And there was an article about his heroism<br>in the newspaper Pravda<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Now the old woman understands only one thing &#8212;<br>that Khlebnikov wrote novels in lines<br>He could have written a novel about her brother \u2013 in lines, too<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>That her brother \u2013 on that machine-gun pillbox \u2013<br>the fascist \u2013 lay down \u2013 as if on a girl<br>So that she would continue to bear children for the country \u2013<br>that lost so many people in the war and beyond<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>And that winter \u2013 she decided to leave in thirty-eight \u2013<br>wiped out by attrition \u2013 that damned year<br>By cold and hunger \u2013 in that frosty winter \u2013<br>minus thirty-eight<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>So that with this numerical and icy fact \u2013<br>she could somehow ask forgiveness of her family \u2013<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>And if Khlebnikov had lived \u2013<br>and known about his brother\u2019s heroism \u2013<br>he would have written \u2013 she believes \u2013<br>a most beautiful novel about him \u2013 a line<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>With this memory \u2013 of her novel \u2013<br>The old woman flies away \u2013<br>into the cold winter night<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Overshadowing \u2013 Covering<br>Bullets Flying into Flesh and from Flesh<br>Sailor\u2019s \u2013 Day<br>and Snowy<br>Night<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Mikhail Volokhov<br>2023<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n<\/details>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p> TRULY THIS IS SO Text of the poem <\/p>\n<p>EVERYONE HAS EARSEVERYONE HAS EARSEVERYONE HAS EARS<\/p>\n<p>THEY HEARTHEY HEARTHEY HEAR<\/p>\n<p>EVERYONE HAS EYESEVERYONE HAS EYESEVERYONE HAS EYES<\/p>\n<p>THEY SEETHEY SEETHEY SEE<\/p>\n<p>EVERYONE HAS A NOSEEVERYONE HAS A NOSEEVERYONE HAS A NOSE<\/p>\n<p>IT BREATHESIT BREATHESIT BREATHES<\/p>\n<p>EVERYONE HAS FEETEVERYONE HAS FEETEVERYONE HAS FEET<\/p>\n<p>THEY WALKTHEY WALKTHEY [&#8230;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-2259","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry","odd"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/volokhov.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2259","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/volokhov.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/volokhov.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/volokhov.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/volokhov.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2259"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/volokhov.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2259\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2271,"href":"https:\/\/volokhov.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2259\/revisions\/2271"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/volokhov.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2259"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}