The Bloody Chapters of Stalingrad

From moments when love was cherished in Stalingrad, Like stories written on the walls With the song repeated by Babushka And not long after that, the war reached its gates. Hands turned into fists and ready for battle Like heads and shoulders patiently under the whip, The Motherland Calls enchants and glorifies, Without knowing the ensuing bloodbath. Every minute felt like a bundle of fear, With the magic of free will as faded as a dust, Like a house turned into rubble And corpses piled upon corpses.