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The battle raged on, the guns rained fury,
The tired troops fought amidst smoke and rubble.
Many bombs blew up nearby, ripping the roof,
As the nearby fields engulfed in fire.
Some huge tanks crossed over the bunt cottage,
As the Wehrmacht advanced, leaving a ghastly wreckage.
The sun went down, but the village still burnt,
As Ivan sat still amidst the terrible flames.
He lost his mother, the cattle and the farm,
The rest had fled, poor and orphaned.
It was dark, and Ivan was alone.
The cottage was gone, and he shivered in the cold.
Suddenly there was a sound, like trampling of leaves,
Ivan woke with a start, and saw a dim lamp.
A little girl was behind it, pale and starving,
She wore thick fur, and stared back at him.
The girl stepped towards him, her limbs shaking,
She produced a bun, and some frozen steak,
And placed them near his numb feet.
‘Who are you, tiny angel?’ he asked.
‘Why do you bring me food, o kindly soul?’
The girl looked at him, but didn’t say a word.
Her dark eyes were moist, the lips frozen black.
‘The villagers have fled, the cattle perished,
Why are you here, in this deserted field?
Why, o tell me why? How long will you
Witness the tears flowing down my cheeks?’
Ivan questioned the mute teenager.
Her kindness had made him cry.
‘The pleasant wind’s deserted me, the dancing horses too,
I’ve spent the day crying out my sorrows.
Now I am left with a night of pain,
Do tell me why, o tell me why, o beautiful stranger,
Why do ye still care for my hunger?’
The girl looked tired and limped forward,
Until she found herself a small fire, and sat besides it.
‘I’m alone, all alone, and fine being that way,
Nobody around to trouble my days ahead,
Nor any reason to be worried about any longer.
Even you, o kindly girl, can take the silent path,
And go to your loved ones, your happy companions.
Leave me and my solitude behind, o maiden
I yearn to be alone, being free from wretched memories.
My family is gone, and soon I shall leave,
To the place of which I once dreamed.’
The girl now moved, and glanced out of the window.
‘There lies my mother, trampled by the machines.
My father left too, taken by the blondes.
I wonder if he were alive now.
My Sasha barked too, until he was squashed,
And here I am, the unlucky remnant.
I wish I was with them, enjoying my pranks,
And they would tease the little girl in me.’
She stared out of the window, silent and blank,
As her tears froze in the bleak Siberian winter.
Ivan glanced up to the sky, as they fervently wished,
For the sun to never rise on them again.