Oh my God! I do not see a Schengen visa!
This is Russia!
[video]https://youtu.be/IQWl1f91XBM[/video]
Enemies have burnt native hut,
Killing his family.
Where to go now to the soldier,
To carry his sorrow?
I went soldiers in deep grief
At the intersection of two roads,
Soldiers found a wide field
Grass overgrown mound.
Should soldiers - and like lumps
Stuck in his throat.
The soldier said: "There are, Praskovya,
Hero - her husband.
Prepare for the guest meals,
Cover with a table in the house -
His day one will return the holiday
To you I come to celebrate ... "
No soldier did not answer,
No it is not met,
It was only a warm summer breeze
Grass shook the grave.
He sighed the soldiers straightened belt.
He opened his bag camp,
Bitter bottle set
On the gray stone coffin:
"Do not blame me, Praskovya,
What I have come to you as follows:
I wanted to drink to the health,
And to drink for the dead.
Come together again friends, girlfriends,
But do we ever come together ... "
And the soldiers drank from a copper mug
Wine with grief in half.
He drank - a soldier, a servant of the people -
And with a heavy heart to say:
"I was going to see you for four years,
I won three powers ... "
Becoming exhilarated soldiers, tears rolled,
Tear dashed hopes,
And on his chest shone
Medal of the city of Budapest.
But the Poles they demolished monuments! And you are silent!
We will never understand each other.
Very sorry!
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Not 20 million or not 60!
You have the wrong knowledge of which you are making the wrong conclusions!
