Тимур Агаев
A hero whose name is unknown
01
A soldier was called together once,
They said it was time to go to war,
The soldier gathered up his things,
And it seems to be the last time he looks out of the window,
He saw the girl he loved, decided to say goodbye to her,
And read her his poems about her.
The blackness of the sky shone like a black flame,
The woman was sitting at the window of the hut
And she was knitting new mittens.
Below it was a beautiful garden,
Where grew the apples are sweet, but the raspberry.
There was a high stone fence around the garden,
All covered with flowers.
And here the woman saw how over the fence climbs
The man stood by the raspberry bushes,
He looked at the woman and said:
"You wait, wait my beauty,
Let me see more of you, joy!
At your beautiful beauty,
Look at your white face!"
The woman was covered with a warm blush,
And the man had already climbed back over,
And he went off into the distance.
The next day there was a woman in the courtyard
Show off to your girlfriends,
Tell your friends about the incident.
My girlfriends didn't believe me, and
The woman decided to read it herself:
"You wait, wait…"
The woman was suddenly interrupted by the same voice:
"You wait, wait my beauty,
Let me see more of you, joy!
At your beautiful beauty,
Look at your white face!"
The woman turned and saw the young man
I asked the young man who composed this poem,
Said a good fellow that he,
And for whom?
"For you!"– the young man replied,
Then he turned and called his horse,
Riding off into the field,
The woman waved her handkerchief after him.
02
I saw an old soldier in the field,
And approaching asked:
"Old man, it hurts you right now,
Then tell me, will I be able to console her?"
The old man looked at the young man and pointed
Hand to where he was called,
He said"boy, don't go, they'll ruin You,
You'd better run away with your beloved,
You will be at least not in the war, but with it!"
Well done he turned to the old man:
"No older, you're sorry, I won't leave the path,
For here is her family, my family, relatives, and friends,
Girlfriends, beautiful Russian maidens,
It's time for me to protect them all, even if I give my soul!"
He rode on, into those difficult distances,
Given the war, and dullness, sadness…
"Well done, I won't forget you,
And I will tell my grandchildren about you,
Go hero, heroes will call you,
Even if the earth takes you away…"
– What's that? " said the old man, watching the hero go.
03
A soldier with honest blood
On the call he raced to his homeland,
In order to give my blood for her.
He raced through fields, forests, and rivers,
On Russia its land
Last time I saw him.
The prophet said to him one day:
"Boy, don't go!", however
He went without thinking about his life,
He was thinking only of her,
About whom I wrote poems both day and night.
Then he saw the assembled soldiers,
And there were friends, acquaintances, and brothers,
Before them is the voivode of their passing
They called him up and put him in the regiment,
With the squad in the capital far going.
"I no longer hope for life.
Oh, goodbye green grass, soon I'll be lying on you!
Farewell to the pillars of the mighty oaks, soon your roots will become my adviser!
Farewell to the beautiful wonderful light, it is a pity that it is covered by clouds,
But it used to light me up in the morning!
Farewell to the flowers that grow out of the ground,
Soon you will grow on me!
Farewell to the distant heavens, I will look at your clouds,
Until my eyes are closed!"
A brave battle began, and the enemy attacked close by,
The heads of the friends dropped in an instant,
And how many tears will be shed,
Give me faith that I won't fall down here,
Return to the warm house, I beg you!
The enemy has come, perhaps I will die,
With one swipe of my hand, I was on the floor,
And having shouted, my cry was heard by all.
And the battle was over, and the enemy was running back,
The blood of your enemies, friends, and brothers has been shed!
The enemy was defeated,
Their feats will be remembered forever by their children!
The soldier came back an old man,
Even though he was badly injured, he was still alive!
The prophet may have been mistaken then.
04
A boy stood in the field and watched,
He looked at the fluttering of the corn,
He looked at the wind blowing through his coat,
At the trees that swayed so wonderfully in the distance.
And the grandfather comes up to the boy and asks:
"What wondrous wonder are you looking at?
How far away are you looking?"
The boy answers him:
"I look at the beauty of my uncle,
The one that won't be written in any book,