Forgive me comrade.
We always see it too late.
Why do they never tell us that you are poor devils like us,
that your mothers are just as anxious as ours,
and that we have the same fear of death,
and the same dying,
and the same agony-
Forgive me comrade, how could you be my enemy?
ВЫ ЧИТАЕТЕ
Poems.
ПоэзияI'm not the best writer, but I like to write an awful lot. Just a couple of poems that I wrote, nothing special.
