NO ONE CAN CALL US MURDERERS
TELL me, what are these men: humans or animals?
Merciless, virulent, black as the pit: And we from infancy had faith in Man, And even now, as soldiers, cherish it.
Than captives' lot could death be heavier?
Who help to friends in war would not afford? Against all we so long have grown and fondled They have arisen now with fire and sword. - In these harsh days we have ourselves grown harsh, And each of us must mercilessly kill Those who are seeking to enchain our children, Those who have dared to work our country's ill.
Useless to be a dove before the falcon: .The dove's sad fate has little lure for us.
No one, in war, can call us murderers For killing those who've corne to murder us.
(Translated from the Russian of Alexei Surkov by
ALAN MORAY WILLIAMS.)
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