The War

The War

Why don't we die?
Do we really ought to live
In the world filled with
The dark ray of the death?
Where the leaves fall off and down
Approximately every day
As though it is that mother,
Whose soul is pure and really bright,
Who is tired of being disquiet.

She does not sleep,
She drowns in the waves of tears
Beneath the falling sky.
The only thing she really does
Is saying over and again:
"I believe in you, my child,
I believe, my sun - you're alive!
I am with you as long as I'm alive,
Every day and anxious night.

I was, I am, I will be always
In your heart, my son "
Flying leaf is one a single,
It is brown as that blood
On the background of an easel.
Among that fuss,
There is a soul,
He is a soldier who falls,
Who fell down on the ground
It's empty and really cold,
Sodden with his blood and courage.
Mother peers out of the window,
The leaf is flying in front of eyes,
She felt a pang, her heart has lost,
She felt her son has gone.
She is sure, she really knows,
The silence comes, the son has gone.

The world has died down.
Familiar voice, then split a second,
And she heard a serene whisper,
It was said "I'm sorry, mom"

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