Half an hour to the battle:
Soon, the panzers will rattle,
Soon, the cannons will start their reprise.
A young lad from the province
Just received correspondence:
A triangular envelope, small by its size.

And it's always exciting
If your girlfriend is writing
Or your mother and dad write you back.
Someone tried to do better,
And delivered a letter
To the soldier awaiting another attack.

It began with a sentence:
"Please forgive for my absence.
I'm not waiting for you." And that's it.
At the bottom - a postscript:
"I am leaving our district.
Fight your war. If I've wronged you, please try to forgive!"

With the first shell explosion,
Overwhelmed with emotion,
He moaned "Postman, what, what have you brought?
This triangular message
Nothing but a death passage.
By this letter, I'm mortally wounded and shot."

He took hold of his rifle,
Disregarding survival,
He left cover to face shrapnel spray.
In the battle for Sura,
The earth hugged him securely,
And the wind scattered bits of the letter away.