On a white night, the whitest night Poems and songs about the Great Patriotic War. That longest day of the year
1/52 ⠀ The year flows like a ball or a bun from one decade to another. ⠀ The kids disassembled the tree, or rather took off all the decorations from it, and prepared for a trip to the country house to plant it. They take care of it daily, water it and collect fallen needles. ⠀ We celebrated the New Year cheerfully and, as always, interesting. Grandfather Frost came, and Klepa the Clown, and the children themselves were in costumes that were changed several times a day. And even the youngest team went to bed by four in the morning, and at the insistence of adults, because by this time they had long wanted to sleep. In this meeting of the new year, we found out that plastic toys break well, especially if they are used as balls. We found out so well that by the next holiday we need to replenish the collection of toys. ⠀ Children go with pleasure to New Year's performances, watch performances and receive sweet gifts, which they bring home and unpack them with the whole family. Having visited the Kremlin Christmas tree, the main Christmas tree in St. Petersburg in the Mariinsky Palace, in the theaters of the city, they, like real theater-goers, draw conclusions about the plays and actors they like. ⠀ - And I want to perform on stage in the same way, - Lyubasha says while watching the next performance. She's four. When she so firmly knows what she wants, I carefully look into her eyes to see my little baby in them. At the same time, she often distorts her already elvish language in order to be small like Little Johnny. Yes, now she does not want to grow up, but wants to be a baby. Sometimes. ⠀ Little Johnny skips performances, staying at home. And although many of his peers try to sit and look out for what is happening, it seems to me that it is better at home. ⠀ Leo, on the other hand, enjoys interacting before the show. When you have a whirligig in your ass, the most beautiful thing is dancing and playing near the tree, although the interesting action captivates him completely. And then he gladly tells me about what he saw. ⠀ The main thing that kids like most about the holidays is the lack of the need to go to kindergarten. It seems that each of them feels good there and, according to the educators, is perfectly adapted, but sometimes evenings are spent in tears about tomorrow's morning unwanted trip to this unloved institution. Moreover, each of them wants to be at home with mom or go to work with her, but no matter where mom goes, just to be with her. And now Dad also has more days off. So the first week of January pleases everyone with the opportunity to be together. Of course, I am especially happy. I love when children are happy and I do not want them to cry, especially because of the garden. ⠀ And we sing along with Vovochka his favorite song “Lyabo! Lyabo! ”, Which translated into Russian means“ I'm a bun! I'm a bun! " and, rolling around the house with balls, we look forward to every next day that brings us happiness and joy. ⠀
WE BELIEVE IN VICTORY
Having concentrated the regiments against us,
The enemy attacked a peaceful country.
In the white night, the whitest night
Started this black war!
Whether he wants it or not,
And he will receive his own from the war:
Soon even days, not just nights,
Will become, will become black for him!
Don't dance today, don't sing.
In the late evening pensive hour
Stand silently at the windows,
Remember those who died for us.
There, in the crowd, among loved ones, in love,
Among the cheerful and strong guys,
Someone's shadows in green caps
They rush to the outskirts in silence.
They can't stay, stay -
This day takes them forever
On the tracks of marshalling yards
They are blown away by trains.
Calling them and calling them is in vain,
They won't say a word in return
But with a sad and clear smile
Look after them intently.
YARD WALLS
1
I will look into a familiar yard
Like a forgotten dream.
I haven't been here for a long time
From a young age.
Over the piles of firewood
Along the damp wall
Fairy world maps
Captured.
These walls for many years
They keep on themselves
What the brochure forgot about
And forgot the facade.
Signs of happiness and misfortune
The memory of long ago
Baby balls footprints
And the bombing trail.
Leningrad courtyards,
Forty-first year
Bachelor feasts
The creak of the night gates.
But the mouthpiece is calling
The trains are blowing
Isn't it time to leave the yard
To the military enlistment office!
What's crying at the gate
Is the girl alone?
- Trust me, a year won't pass -
The war will end.
How will I be back in a year -
Look out the window
We will come with victory
To this old house
Let's get the gramophones,
Let's go get some wine.
Hello yard, goodbye war.
Forty-fifth year.
Just by the window
The girl is not waiting?
Someone's room in the darkness
And the door is closed.
You are her all over the earth
You won't find it now.
Fairy planet maps
They look from the wall, -
But there is a trace of fragments on them,
Cuneiform war.
Old courtyard, forgotten dream
Swallows flight
A tape recorder on the window
Sings about love.
Over the piles of firewood
Protects the wall
Phantom world maps
Showers of writing.
And streams into the old courtyard
Early evening light ...
Everything is as it was for a long time,
But some are not.
Someone's easy steps
Lost track
On distant shores
Fairy planets.
Among unknown meadows
In eternal silence ...
Shadows of light clouds
They are dancing on the wall.
1963
MIRROR
As if by a blow of a terrible ram
Here half of the house is demolished
And in the clouds of frosty fog
A charred wall rises.
More wallpaper torn remember
About the old life, peaceful and simple,
But the doors of all the collapsed rooms
Opened, hanging over the void.
And let me forget everything else -
I can't forget how, trembling in the wind,
A wall mirror hangs over the abyss
At the height of the sixth floor.
It miraculously didn't break.
People killed, walls swept away, -
It hangs, fate is blind mercy,
Above the abyss of sorrow and war.
A witness to the pre-war comfort
On a damp pitted wall
The warmth of breath and the smile of someone
It stores in a glass depth.
Where is she, unknown, gone
Or wandering along the roads how
The girl who looked deep into him
And braids in front of him? ..
Perhaps this mirror has seen
Her last moment when her
Chaos of rubble of stone and metal
Falling down, threw it into oblivion.
Now both day and night gaze into him
The face of a fierce war.
In it gun shots of lightning
And the alarming glow is visible.
The dampness chokes him now,
Blind fires with smoke and fire.
But everything will pass. And no matter what happens -
The enemy will never be reflected in him!
1942, Leningrad
PARTING
A splinter will hit under the left nipple,
The grass will grow red in the ditch ...
I'll cut my fingers on sedge stalks,
I'll live for a minute.
A film of unprecedented length will be promoted.
Filmed over the years ...
And childhood, and youth, and meetings, and dreams -
What kind of frames are not there!
Parting, roads, smiles, at home,
Your own and other people's sins ...
What a cameraman who went crazy
Did he make such nonsense?
But they will fall into place at home, and bridges,
Bugs and maples in bloom
When you appear on the screen
The influx of all the fuss.
You will stand by the blue brooding rivers
In the fields dressed in spring
So sad, as if forever
She came to part with me.
I will shout to you: "Darling, wait,
It's not time to say goodbye yet -
Call the orderlies, even though a simple thread
Let the doctors sew the heart.
To live at least an hour, at least a short day -
I don't want darkness so much.
After all, I couldn't get enough of you,
Why are you saying goodbye? .. "
1944
HOUSE OF CULTURE
Here, in this House of Culture
There was a hospital in 1942.
My friend, emaciated and gloomy,
Lay cheese in the twilight.
The smokers in the hall were blinking
Smoke a stove in the corner
And the bunks stood in rows
On this parquet floor.
I came out of a dark building
On the snow of the Leningrad winter,
But he knew that we would not meet.
I said to my friend "goodbye"
And now, many years later
I enter this very building,
Having bought a ticket for fifty dollars.
Shaking off snowflakes from a coat,
I enter the mirrored door.
Not caustic carbolic - perfume
It smells festive here now.
Where the bunks once stood
Where the unknown soldier died
On smooth oak squares
Couples in love glide.
I alone, not in love with anyone,
I walk around the hall,
And a cloud of reinforced concrete
The ceiling is floating above me.
With what sudden power
Sometimes he takes the heart
Confirmed by happiness
Long-standing someone's trouble!
1962
A shell hit under Kirk-Muola
Into the regiment's dugout.
They dug us out. Three are dead
And I'm only slightly shell-shocked.
Luck. Since then I live and live
Healthy and durable appearance.
But what if all this is not in reality,
Namely, I was killed?
What if now the surviving neighbor
I'm being carried in the drag
And I dream my dream, lucky delirium
For twenty years to come?
A friend will fall in a harsh wind
Swamp water will sip, -
And I will suddenly wake up from a push - and die,
And everything will end then.
RETREATING FROM WUOTTA
Retreat from Wuotta,
Flaming houses ...
I sat on the ground without care
A man who has gone mad.
The world was not worth his attention
And the fear drifted away forever
And the smile of all understanding
On his lips wandered.
He was silent like a silent Buddha
Throwing all doubts to the bottom, -
It was very bad for us
And he doesn't care.
I felt sorry for the man
On the night of the departed until dark, -
Not a dead man and not a cripple,
Only the soul took the war.
RETIRED
Infantry hairdresser
Addicted to wine.
He is not very willing
Remembers the war.
And he has the right to be proud,
And peace is deserved, -
Only God save
From work like that.
Oh, how much hair was cut!
He cut his hair like a groovy,
Not for boxing, not for polka, -
Everything is under zero and under zero.
It worked great,
I understood what's what -
But not everyone is secondary
I could have come to him.
Ah, infantry, infantry -
Combat material! ..
In the hills, in the swamps
He was losing clients.
Apparently polka-Canadian
Not for these guys -
Underground in raincoat tents
They have been sleeping for twenty years.
Today something is sad to me,
Pour it for me, pour it! ..
Ah, infantry, infantry,
Queen of the fields!
THE WATCHER
The stove remains from the house,
Yes, a black pipe above it,
Yes lonely porch
Of roughly hewn stones.
The yard is overgrown with wild mint,
And yet on the porch there is
The shaggy dog \u200b\u200bsits as before
And guards the burned down house.
During the day he is in the forest or in the swamp
Lives hunting somehow
But by nightfall you will always find here
His gaze into the darkness.
After all, he himself probably understood
That won't wait for anyone
But he remembers warm palms
And the voice that clicked on him.
And at night - from a windbreak,
From the darkness of the forest, from the damp haze
Someone's step, easy and familiar,
At times it seems to him.
Silent, lonely and offended,
Willows twisted trunk
The abandoned pond is motionless
And thick, like a strong pickle.
Sometimes, like a sleepy wonder,
From the darkness, herbal, watery
The frog floats up lazily
Shining with a cucumber back.
But the boy came with a twig -
And there is no silence on the pond;
Here is a helmet overgrown with ooze,
He fished out from the depths.
Without sadness, without any care,
A naughty smile shining,
He takes the Soviet infantry
Heavy headdress.
He will scoop up water busily -
And listens like water
Flowing from a punched helmet
On the smooth plane of the pond.
About the kind cloudless sky,
About days without loss and hardship,
Trembling like a silver stalk
This trickle sings to him.
Sings to him slowly
About how quiet everything is around
Sings about happy June
And to me about something else, about something else ...
BIRD RELEASE
In one communal apartment,
Among other registered persons,
Lives an elderly and sad
A freak who releases birds.
Market neighbors often
They meet that eccentric -
With a large homemade cage
He stands by the pet shop.
From your poor pay
Will buy siskins and tits
And goes out of town somewhere
A freak who releases birds.
Float past the carriage windows
Gardens and asphalt motorways;
On the site of burnt villages
Others are no worse.
Country pines sway
And the rivers are transparent to the bottom,
And even through the wheel rumbling
Earthly silence is heard.
And yet the soul is not in place,
And there is no joy in silence:
Missing, missing, missing
His son disappeared in the war.
And here is a nondescript halt
At the junction of rocky roads ...
In a swampy place, not a summer cottage,
The line of defense lay.
This is not the first time the old man will find
Infantry division rear,
Where the flowers of the field stood
On the mounds of mass graves.
But where to lay eyes on him,
Where does his heart fall,
Where to find a mound, over which
Could he cry his best? ..
He removes the rag from the cage,
Then he opens it, -
Quiet birds are silent
And they don't believe in their happiness.
But the wings are light and resilient
And joy grows on the fly -
In some kind of happy fright
They soar in height.
They fly over the green land,
They fly without roads and borders
And looks at them affectionately
An old man releasing birds.
When I'm in tight -
I read in the silence of the night
A letter from an unforgotten friend
Who was killed in the war.
I read dry as gunpowder
Ordinary words
Jagged lines in which
To this day, hope is alive.
And everything is hasty, evil
It fades, fades in me.
The past comes to the soul,
As in a sad sublime dream.
This whole world, eternal and new,
I see - as if from a mountain,
And again the postal triangle
I put it in the box for the time being.
***
Look back for a moment -
And what is behind us?
There swallows twine
Over an old brick wall
There are children's quarrels
A series of happiest days
There are clear eyes, -
Nobody will let us in there.
Let's just look for a moment -
What were we like in the past?
There in the early morning
We walk along the path together.
We are both beautiful
(Seen from the current years) -
And both are not powerful
Having concentrated the regiments against us, the Enemy attacked a peaceful country. White night, the whitest night Started this terrible war.
June 22, 1941 Germany crossed the borders of our country. The rate of advance of the troops was 30 km per day. The capture of the city of Leningrad was given a special place. The enemy wanted to seize the Baltic Sea coast and destroy the Baltic Fleet. The Germans quickly broke through to the city and in July they began to take out the inhabitants and the factories located in the city from Leningrad.
Look at the map! If the land is painted brown, it means it was captured by the Nazis. A fascist swastika is painted on the brown ground. And where the Red Army stands, red stars are drawn.
BLOCKADE OF LENINGRAD lasted from September 8, 1941 to January 27, 1944 (broken on January 18, 1943) - 871 days.
The siege of Leningrad is an unheard-of test of humanity, dignity, love for loved ones, compassion, cordiality. These tests were daily, terrible, because hunger is generally impossible to imagine without experiencing it ...
At the time of the blockade, there were 2 million 544 thousand civilians in the city, including about 400 thousand children. In addition, 343 thousand people remained in the suburban areas (in the blockade ring). In September, when systematic bombing, shelling and fires began, many thousands of families wanted to leave, but the paths were cut off.
Over 100 thousand high-explosive and incendiary bombs fell on Leningrad, the Nazis fired 150 thousand shells.
The enemies wanted to condemn as many survivors to painful death as possible. And take the city with your bare hands.
All its inhabitants rose to defend the city: 500 thousand of Leningraders built defensive structures, 300 thousand volunteered for the people's militia, the front and partisan detachments. militia fighters. female rifle battalion.
The shops of the Leningrad factories were emptied. Many workers went to the front. Their wives and children stood up to the machines.
These days a fourteen-year-old boy Fyodor Bykov wrote to his father at the front ... “Dear dad! Now I do not go to school, but work at a factory. We have a lot of guys in our workshop, we are learning to work on the walls. Our master Uncle Sasha says that with our work we will help to defend Leningrad from the damned fascists. And my mother also works, only in another workshop where mines are made. Dear Dad! I am hungry all the time, and my mother is hungry all the time. Because now they give little bread, there is almost no meat at all and there is no butter. Dear Dad! Beat the fascists! Your son, the worker of the plant No. 5 Fyodor Bykov, remains. "
Children, along with adults, starved and froze in besieged Leningrad, extinguished incendiary bombs together with the soldiers, worked in factories - making shells. For their courage and bravery they were awarded the medal "For the Defense of Leningrad" and the medal "Valiant Labor in the Great Patriotic War 1941 -1945".
November came Ladoga began to gradually become covered with ice. By November 17, the ice had reached 100 mm, which was not enough to open the movement. Everyone was expecting frost ... Hunger struck in Leningrad.
The monstrous famine that claimed the lives of about a million Leningraders is comparable to the worst humanitarian catastrophes of the 20th century.
Need is truly ingenious. Soups were prepared from yeast, which were counted towards the norm of cereals, which were relied on according to the cards. A bowl of yeast soup was often the only meal of the day for many thousands of people. From the flesh of the skins of calves (young calves) found in tanneries, they cooked jelly. The taste and smell of such jelly was extremely unpleasant, but who paid attention to this? Hunger suppressed all feelings. Over the years, flour dust has accumulated on the walls and ceilings in mills. It was collected, processed and used as an admixture to flour. They shook and knocked out every bag that once contained flour. Shakes and knockouts from the bags were sieved and immediately sent to the bakery. Bread substitutes were found, processed and eaten 18 thousand tons, not counting malt and oat flour. These were mainly barley and rye bran, cotton cake, mill dust, sprouted grain raised from the bottom of Lake Ladoga from sunken barges, rice husks, corn sprouts, and bagging.
Look at these photos and you will understand how Leningraders lived in the first blockade winter. Such announcements hung in all bakeries in Leningrad.
The winter of 1942 was especially difficult, there were severe frosts, the water supply did not work, it was difficult to get firewood. Water was taken directly from the Neva. Without water, without heat, without light The day is like black night... Maybe there is no strength in the world, To overcome all this.
monument to the besieged cats. In the winter of 1941 -1942, many rats were bred in the city. They attacked half-starved and exhausted old people and children. By this time, no cats or dogs were left in the city - those who did not die and did not leave were eaten. Rats not only destroyed already meager food supplies, they were also potential carriers of the plague. “December 3, 1941. Today we ate a fried cat. Very tasty, "a 10-year-old boy wrote in his diary. Nevertheless, some townspeople, despite the severe hunger, took pity on their favorites.
"In the spring of 1942, half-starving, an old woman took her cat outside for a walk. People came up to her and thanked her for keeping him." "In March 1942, I suddenly saw a skinny cat on a city street. Several old women stood around it and crossed themselves, and an emaciated, skeletal policeman watched so that no one caught the animal." "In April 1942, passing by the Barricade cinema, I saw a crowd of people at the window of one of the houses. They were amazed at the extraordinary sight: a tabby cat with three kittens was lying on the brightly lit window sill. Seeing her, I realized that we had survived." ...
So they buried Leningraders, who died of hunger, killed during the bombing. There was no one to make coffins, and there were no cars to take them to the cemetery. The corpses were piled in certain places and taken to the cemetery.
Blockade…. As far as this word From our peaceful bright days. I pronounce it and see it again - Hungry dying children. Children crying for bread asked, There is no worse torture like this. They did not open the gates of Leningrad And did not come out to the city wall. How empty whole neighborhoods, And how trams froze on the tracks, And mothers who could not bear Their children to the cemetery.
In besieged Leningrad This girl lived. She kept her diary in her student notebook. During the war, Tanya died, Tanya is alive in her memory: Holding her breath for a moment, the world hears her words: “Zhenya died on December 28 at 12:30 in the morning of 1941. My grandmother died on January 25 at 3 pm 1942. ... »And in the night the sky pierces Sharp light of searchlights. There is not a crumb of bread at home, You will not find a log of firewood. The smokehouse does not keep warm The pencil is trembling in the hand, But it brings blood out of the heart In the secret diary: Leka died on March 12 at 8 am 1942. Uncle Vasya died on April 13 at 2 pm 1942. "
The gun thunderstorm has died down, Only the memory now and then Looks intently in the eyes. Birches are stretching towards the sun, The grass is breaking through, And on the mournful Piskarevsky They will suddenly stop the words: “Uncle Lyosha died on May 10 at 4 pm 1942. Mom - May 13 at 7:30 am in the morning of 1942. " The heart of our planet is beating loudly, like an alarm. Do not forget the land of Auschwitz, Buchenwald and Leningrad. Greet a bright day, people, People, listen to the diary: It sounds stronger than guns, That silent child's cry: “The Savichevs are dead. They all died. There is only Tanya left! "
A notebook was left open on the desk, they did not have to finish writing, reading. When high explosive bombs and famine fell on the city. And we will never forget with you, How our peers took the fight. They were only 12, But they were - Leningraders. But the schools continued to work. It was cold in the classrooms. Everywhere there were stoves "potbelly stoves". All sat in fur coats, hats and mittens. They wrote on old newspapers with pencils. The ink froze in the cold. And after school, the children went to the roof and were on duty there, extinguishing incendiary bombs or working in a hospital.
Food in Leningrad ran out. How to feed them? Far beyond the blockade ring there is food - flour, meat, butter. How to deliver them? Only one road connected the besieged city with the mainland. This road went on water. She is like a legend, like a song, like a banner, This road will have no end - it has forever passed through our memory, Forever has passed through our hearts.
Road workers measured the thickness of ice throughout the lake on a daily basis, but were unable to accelerate its growth. On November 20, the ice thickness reached 180 mm. Horse carts went out on the ice, and then trucks with food ...
Brave warriors and car drivers died on Ladoga, saving Leningraders from starvation. But the road worked. And already on December 25, they announced the first increase in bread.
Only a military road laid on the ice of Lake Ladoga helped people to survive. Anti-aircraft guns, wire and minefields are camouflaged not far from the highway to protect the road from Nazi soldiers. Not all cars made it to the shore; many fell through the ice along with food. Bread to Leningrad, and children to the rear.
Here are the Leningraders. Here the townspeople are men, women, children. Next to them are Red Army soldiers. With their whole life They defended you, Leningrad, Cradle of the revolution. Here we cannot list their noble names, There are so many of them under the eternal protection of granite. But know, heeding these stones, No one is forgotten, and nothing is forgotten. Olga Berggolts.
June 22, 1941 Germany crossed the borders of our country. The rate of advance of the troops was 30 km per day. The capture of the city of Leningrad was given a special place. The enemy wanted to seize the Baltic Sea coast and destroy the Baltic Fleet. The Germans quickly broke through to the city and in July they began to take out the inhabitants and the factories located in the city from Leningrad.
At the time of the blockade, there were 2 million 544 thousand civilians in the city, including about 400 thousand children. In addition, 343 thousand people remained in the suburban areas (in the blockade ring). In September, when systematic bombing, shelling and fires began, many thousands of families wanted to leave, but the paths were cut off.
Children, along with adults, starved and froze in besieged Leningrad, extinguished incendiary bombs together with the soldiers, worked in factories - making shells. For their courage and bravery they were awarded the medal "For the Defense of Leningrad" and the medal "Valiant Labor in the Great Patriotic War."
It was a wonderful time of the year - winter. But she did not please the Leningraders. Due to the lack of fuel and electricity, many enterprises, trams, trolleybuses stopped, heating failed, water pipes froze. The city was running out of food, and there was nowhere to bring them. People began to weaken and get sick. In 1942, the norm of bread, consisting of dust, pine sawdust and a few grams of rye flour, was 125 grams. "125 grams of blockade with fire and blood in half" - wrote the poetess O. Bergolts. Dystrophy spread in the city, people fell into hungry faints. We ate everything that came across: grass soup, jelly from wood glue, mice - everything that was. They even tried to leave a small piece of bread for a long time.
The story "Breadcrumbs" It was during the war, in Leningrad besieged by the Nazis. It is cold and very dark in the store, only a smokehouse was blinking on the counter of the saleswoman. The saleswoman was dispensing bread. There was a queue at the counter on one side. People came up. They stretched out the cards and received a piece of bread, small, but heavy and wet, because there was very little flour in it, but more water and cotton cake. On the other side of the counter were children. Even in the dim light of the smokehouse, one could see how thin, emaciated faces they had. The fur coats did not fit the guys, they hung on them, like on sticks. Their heads were wrapped over their hats with warm scarves and shawls. The legs were in felt boots, and only there were no mittens on my hands: my hands were busy with business.
As soon as the seller, who cut the loaf, fell on the counter with bread crumbs, someone's thin, chilled finger hastily but delicately slid across the counter, prying on the crumb and carefully carrying it into his mouth. The two fingers on the counter did not meet: the guys were in line. The saleswoman did not scold, did not shout at the children, did not say: “Do not interfere with work! Go away! " the saleswoman silently did her job: she let people go to their blockade rations. People took bread and left, while a bunch of Leningrad guys stood quietly at the other side of the counter, each patiently waiting for their crumb.
In winter, many rats were bred in the city. They attacked half-starved and exhausted old people and children. By this time, no cats or dogs were left in the city - those who did not die and did not leave were eaten. Rats not only destroyed already meager food supplies, they were also potential carriers of the plague. monument to the besieged cats. “December 3, 1941. Today we ate a fried cat. Very tasty, "a 10-year-old boy wrote in his diary. Nevertheless, some townspeople, despite the severe hunger, took pity on their favorites.
"In the spring of 1942, half-starving, an old woman took her cat outside for a walk. People came up to her and thanked her for keeping him." "In March 1942, I suddenly saw a skinny cat on a city street. Several old women stood around it and crossed themselves, and an emaciated, skeletal policeman watched so that no one caught the animal." "In April 1942, passing by the Barricade cinema, I saw a crowd of people at the window of one of the houses. They were amazed at the extraordinary sight: a tabby cat with three kittens was lying on the brightly lit window sill. Seeing her, I realized that we had survived." ...
But the schools continued to work. It was cold in the classrooms. Everywhere there were stoves "potbelly stoves". All sat in fur coats, hats and mittens. They wrote on old newspapers with pencils. The ink froze in the cold. After school, the children went to the roof and were on duty there, extinguishing incendiary bombs or working in a hospital. A notebook was left open on the desk, they did not have to finish writing, reading. When HE bombs and famine fell on the city. And we will never forget with you, How our peers took the fight. They were only 12, But they were - Leningraders.
This is what a 12-year-old boy writes ... “We study in a bomb shelter. From morning to evening shelling, shelling ... A shell flew into our house and exploded, knocking out all the windows. We blocked the window with plywood and now the house is completely dark. Preparing for the geographic gathering. Today I ate jelly made of wood glue. " “Somewhere up there, mines were whistling, shells exploded, and it was quiet, warm, light underground here. The radio brought us sirens into the ground. We had a lesson. Teacher explained new topics to us. It was necessary to memorize, write down. It became difficult to study. The stoker did not work. Cold. Hands and feet go numb, ink freezes. The lights went out in the dungeon, we moved to a classroom where only one window is glazed, and the rest are filled with plywood. ”In such conditions, the children studied and brightly believed that the day of victory would come.
Food in Leningrad ran out. How to feed them? Far beyond the blockade ring there is food - flour, meat, butter. How to deliver them? Only one road connected the besieged city with the mainland. This road went on water. It is like a legend, like a song, like a banner, This road will have no end - it has forever passed through memory, Forever has passed through our hearts.
Anti-aircraft guns, wire and minefields are camouflaged not far from the road to protect the road from Nazi soldiers. Not all cars reached the shore, many fell through the ice along with food. Bread to Leningrad, and children to the rear. Only a military road laid on the ice of Lake Ladoga helped people survive.
The only way of communication with the besieged Leningrad was Lake Ladoga. Only by the lake could people contact the land. This road was called the Road of Life. But this road was constantly bombarded. A lot of blood has been spilled on this road. Today on the road of life there is a monument "The Flower of Life". The flower petals depict the face of a smiling boy and the words "May there always be sunshine." Nearby there is a plate on which the inscription: “In the name of life and against war. To the children of the young heroes of Leningrad. "
The blockade lasted 900 days and nights. A terrible fate befell the Savichev family. Tanya Savicheva was born in 1930, she was only 12 years old when the war was going on. The Savichev family was big and friendly. Father, worked as a baker, baked fragrant and delicious bread. Mother, at the factory. The war began. During the war, Tanya kept a diary. This is a small notebook kept by a 12-year-old Leningrad girl Tanya Savicheva. The book has nine pages, six of them have dates. Six pages - six deaths. "On December 28, 1941 Zhenya died ... Grandmother died on January 25, 1942. March 17 - Leka died. Uncle Vasya died on April 13. May 10 - Uncle Lyosha, mother - May 15. The Savichevs died. All died. Tanya was the only one left. ...
Tanya Savicheva's diary became one of the material evidences of the fascist atrocities at the Nuremberg trials, and the girl herself became a symbol of the courage of besieged Leningrad. Dozens of books have been written about her fate, films have been made, Edita Piekha performs "The Ballad of Tanya Savicheva", there is a star named in her honor. But ... few people even today know that Tanya was wrong, and not all of the Savichevs died. Tanya's sister, Nina Nikolaevna, who still lives near St. Petersburg, survived in such terrible conditions.
During the Great Patriotic War V. Shefner was an ordinary soldier of the airfield service battalion. Thus, the war and the blockade of Leningrad entered his poetry. In Defense, war is the only all-consuming theme. What he experienced during the war forever remained very important for the poet, became the highest measure of all his searches, creative and moral.
The poem "We believe in victory!" was written by V. Shefner at the very beginning of the war, on June 23, 1941, in Leningrad.
The poem is imbued with journalistic pathos, we can attribute it to patriotic lyrics. It is built on the basis of an antithesis. In the beginning, we see the opposition between the “enemy” and the “peaceful country”, “white night” and “black war”. Here the poet uses a characteristic epithet ("black war"), which means: unrighteous, unfair, aggressive, bringing people death, grief, suffering. Then the situation gets its logical conclusion: the enemy who unleashed this war will be justly punished:
Whether he wants it or not,
And he will receive his own from the war:
Soon even days, not only nights,
Will become, will become black for him!
The poem is a cross-rhymed eight-verse. The poet uses modest means of artistic expression: an epithet ("white night", "black war"), metaphor and lexical repetition ("Soon even days, not only nights, will become black for him!").
