Белобородов Михаил
1 курс
ППИ(бывш. ПГПУ)им. Белинского
г. Пенза
преподаватель:
Разумова Марина Владимировна
St. George Ribbon.
The morning came, I opened my eyes.
The sun, so proudly shining, is rising.
It’s May, life goes on, it’s the 9th!
Dear Lord, I cannot realize it…
Having slowly got up to my feet,
I took a glance at my old medals.
Two colors I saw and could hardly breathe,
Orange and black. Faded like shadows.
People know little about St. George Ribbon,
They can’t even guess what I feel.
The symbol of victory that brought Freedom,
The symbol of scars that won’t heal.
The Orange reminds of Devil’s flame.
It hurts, deep inside, burns my soul.
It’s bright like blood which flows for fame,
And fills over the enemy’s bowl.
Not only these horrible figures and things,
But also some ray of hope far ahead.
A divine shine of guardian angel’s wings,
When you are in need of his saving thread.
And Black is a color of Darkness indeed,
It’s heavy clouds of smoke all around.
The color of Death when you are being through it,
The color of wet and cold ground.
But that Blackness appears to be powerful,
As much as my dead brothers’ strong will.
Could anything be more colorful,
Than a black skyline viewing from a hill?
This Ribbon is just a small piece of cloth,
Two lines which are coupled together,
Do you see now what they mean to me, both?
St. George Ribbon is in my mind forever.
