Americans……She writes in Russian: “You are always here”
Brilliant-This quote came from the Czech Republic
“The danger to America is not Barack Obama, but a citizenry capable of entrusting an inexperienced man like him with the Presidency. It will be far easier to limit and undo the follies of an Obama presidency than to restore the necessary common sense and good judgment to a depraved electorate willing to have such a man for their president. The problem is much deeper and far more serious than Mr. Obama, who is a mere symptom of what ails America. Blaming the prince of the fools should not blind anyone to the vast confederacy of fools that made him their prince. The Republic can survive a Barack Obama. It is less likely to survive a multitude of fools, such as those who made him their president.”
The Question for Americans is…….
Will we listen, take action and learn from their History?
Hat tip to one of my favorite Active Rain Bloggers Jon Zolsky, Daytona Beach, FL. FunCoast Realty
The Sacred War
Arise, beloved country!
Arise, for mortal fight
With Fascist hordes despicable,
The forces of the night.
Let waves of righteous fury
Swell up as ne’er before
And spur us to the vict’ry of
Our sacred people’s war.”
And then yo see the cradle and you hear one of the most popular war-time songs – Dark Night (music – Bogoslovsky, lyrics -Agatov)
Dark is the night, only bullets whistle over the steppe,
Only the wind hums in the wires, the stars flicker dimly.
This dark night I know that you, my love, are not asleep,
And by our child’s bed you secretly wipe away a tear
Then she is holding the so called Triangle, that dreaded small envelope from the frontline, which was called the burial letter.
Then the monumnet. And you hear a song written after rthe war, the song where the poet thinks the fallen soldiers become white cranes and they fly high in the sky and call us. Very beautiful lyrics… (here it is translated by Peter Tempest)
I sometimes think that riders brave,
Who met their death in bloody fight,
Were never buried in a grave
But rose as cranes with plumage white.
And ever since until this day
They pass high overhead and call.
Is that not why we often gaze
In solemn silence at them all?
In far-off foreign lands I see
The cranes in evening’s dying glow
Fly quickly past in company,
As men on horseback used to go.
And, as they fly far out of reach,
I hear them calling someone’s name.
Is that why sounds in Avar speech
Recall the clamour of a crane?
Across the weary sky they race,
Who friend and kinsman used to be,
And in their ranks I see a space-
Perhaps they’re keeping it for me?
One day I’ll join the flock of cranes,
With them I shall go winging, by
And you, who here on earth remain,
Will hear my loud and strident cry.
And that image of a sailor (it is a sailor cap he wears behind the window), and a child in the same sailor’s cap on the window sill, they are waiting for their loved one to come back, and he never will…
… and she writes in Russian: “You are always here”