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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.
Copyright ©
Mpinge Mpinge
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