苏联爱国诗词(你最喜欢哪一首前苏联的诗)

《阿廖沙，你可曾记得斯摩棱斯克一带的道路》

康斯坦丁·米哈依洛维奇·西蒙诺夫

阿廖沙，你可记得斯摩棱斯克一带的道路，

下着连绵不断的、倾盆如注的暴雨，

疲惫不堪的妇女们给我们送来陶壶，

怕雨淋湿，把它们像孩子一样摆在怀里，

她们在一旁偷偷地抹着眼泪，

跟随我们后面悄声祷告：“上帝保佑你们！”

并且按照伟大的俄罗斯古时候的成规，

一再声称她们是士兵们的心上人。

不是用里数，往往是用眼泪计算路途的近远，

大路向前延伸，一座座山岗隐没了它的踪影

一座又一座村庄，村庄，村庄与墓地相连，

仿佛整个俄罗斯是由它们汇聚而成，

仿佛在俄罗斯的每一座村庄后面，

我们的祖先们，众志成城，

伸开十字架般的手臂保护活人平安．

为他们的不信上帝的子孙祈祷神灵。

你可知道，祖国或许毕竟不是指平素

我在城市里快活地居住的高楼大厦，

而是指祖祖辈辈走出来的这些乡间土路，

以及他们的俄罗斯墓前普通的十字架。

我不知道你怎样，而我却是由于战争

才第一次踏上了这些乡间的土路，

从村镇到村镇，带走妇女的悲歌声，

带走寡妇的眼泪，带走乡村道路的思慕。

阿廖沙，你可记得鲍里索夫郊外的农舍，

那扶尸痛哭的少女的凄厉的悲鸣，

那穿着毛绒大衣的白发苍苍的老太婆，

那浑身素白仿佛穿着寿衣的老翁。

可我们该对他们说什么呢，拿什么给他们消愁？

但是老太婆凭她妇女的敏感懂得了苦难之深，

你可记得，她对我们说：“我的亲生骨肉，

你们往前走吧，我们会等着你们。”

“我们会等着你们！”牧场对我们呼喊。

“我们会等着你们！”森林对我们宣称。

阿廖沙，你可知道，我每天夜里梦见——

他们的叫喊声在我身后紧紧跟踪。

按照俄罗斯人的习惯，战友们

刚在身后抛掉俄罗斯国土上的火海

便挺着胸脯在我们面前壮烈丧身，

子弹暂时放过了你我两个人。

但是我再而三地确信，生命已过限期，

不管怎样我依然感到骄傲万分——

为了生我养我的最亲切的俄罗斯土地，

为了我能有幸死在这块土地上，

为了俄罗斯母亲让我们来到了人世，

为了俄罗斯妇女送我们走上战场，

同时按俄罗斯人习惯把我拥抱三次。

Smolensk roads

Remember, Alyosha, the roads of Smolenshchina,

Remember the rain and the mud and the pain,

The women, exhausted, who brought milk in pitchers,

And clasped them like babies at breast, from the rain.

The whispering words as we passed them - "God bless you!"

The eyes where they secretly wiped away tears!

And how they all promised they would be "soldatki",

- The words of old Russia from earlier years.

The road disappearing past hills in the distance,

Its length that we measured with tears on the run.

And villages, villages, churches and churchyards,

As if all of Russia were gathered in one.

It seemed that in each Russian village we passed through,

The hands of our ancestors under the sod

Were making the sign of the cross and protecting

Their children, no longer believers in god.

You know, I believe that the Russia we fight for

Is not the dull town where I lived at a loss

But those country tracks that our ancestors followed,

The graves where they lie, with the old Russian cross.

I speak for myself, but in countryside Russia

It first came about that I learned to belong

To the tedious miles between village and village,

The tears of the widow, the women's sad song.

Remember, Alyosha, the hut at Borisov,

The cry of the girl as she mourned, and the sight

Of the grey-haired old woman, her velveteen jacket,

The old man, as if dressed for death, all in white!

And what could we say? With what words could we comfort them?

Yet seeming to gather the sense of our lack,

The old woman said "We shall wait for you, darlings!

Wherever you get to, we know you'll come back!"

"We know you'll come back!" said the fields and pastures,

"We know you'll come back!" said the woods and the hill.

Alyosha, at nights I can hear them behind me.

Their voices are following after me still.

By old Russian practice, mere fire and destruction

Are all we abandon behind us in war.

We see alongside us the deaths of our comrades,

By old Russian practice, the wound to the fore.

Alyosha, till now we've been spared by the bullets.

But when (for the third time) my life seemed to end,

I yet still felt proud of the dearest of countries,

The great bitter land I was born to defend.

I'm proud that the mother who bore us was Russian;

That Russian I'll fall as my ancestors fell;

That going to battle, the woman was Russian,

Who kissed me three times in a Russian farewell!