* * *
Creator,
take me through
the war
to the shore of childhood,
where so beautiful and naive
Life began,
where the toy days
not knowing tiredness
in the toy war,
had the upper hand
and won, won.
Creator,
transfer me, my Fatherland,
my Country through Hell
of war,
through the fate of my sins
to that land
where are heavenly dreams,
and no war,
where is the illusory Paradise,
ghostly
but still Paradise.
Translated by Natalia Ogienko.