Amid the melted candles and evening prayers,
amid the spoils of war and peace bonfires
live children of a books, not knowing the battles,
exhausted by their small disasters.

Children always chagrin
of their age and life,
and we were fighting to abrasions
to death injuries,

but clothes darned
us mother-in-time,
we swallowed the same books,
getting drunk on the lines.

Hair stuck to us at sweaty foreheads,
and sucked on a sweet spoon phrases,
and circled our heads smell of battle,
the pages yellowed down on us.

And tried to understand,
we did not know the wars,
for the mysterious calf
of taking howl

The mystery of the word "Order",
the appointment of boundaries,
the meaning of the attack
and the rattle of war chariots.

And in cauldron of previous wars and unrest,
so much food for our little brains.
We are on the role of trailors, cowards, Jude,
in their children’s games assigned enemies.

And the footsteps of the villain
is not given to chill,
and beautiful ladies
have promised to love,

and comforting friends
and family love,
we are on the role of heroes
introduced themselves.

Only in dreams can not run away forever,
short life have run, so much pain around.
Try his hand at relinquish the dead,
and the weapons taken from the tired hands.

Try, seizing still
warm with a sword
and wearing armor,
that how do, that how do.

Figure out who you are - a coward
or a chosen one destiny,
and taste
the real struggle.

And when the friend would fall wounded,
then on the first loss you will weep, grieving.
And when you stat without skin suddenly,
what killed him, not you

You will understand
that gathered, difference,
found by a grin collected -
this is death grin.

Look, what a rude person
lies and evil,
and always behind them,
the crows and coffins.

If the hole the way the sword of his father,
you wound to the mustache salty tears,
if in a hot battle tested, how do that,
then as a child you have read the necessary books.

If you have not eaten
a piece of meat from the knife,
if his hands folded,
watching with high

and the fight is not joined
with a scoundrel, the executioner,
meaning in life you had
to do with matters, to do with matters