Đàn sếu bay

bài thơ của Gamzatov: đôi khi tôi nghĩ rằng, có lẽ nào, những anh lính chiến, chưa bao giờ rời khỏi chiến trường đẫm máu, chết mà ko được chôn, hóa thành những chú sếu bay trên trời cao, màu trắng, tiếng kêu như tiếng khóc, cho tới tận ngày nay... rồi đến ngày tôi sẽ, bay cùng những chú sếu, bỏ lại những người thân...
Photo by Chris Briggs on Unsplash.


CRANES

Sometimes I feel that all those fallen soldiers,
Who never left the bloody battle zones,
Have not been buried to decay and molder,
But turned into white cranes that softly groan.
And thus, until these days since those bygone times,
They still fly in the skies and gently cry.
Isn’t it why we often hear those bell chimes
And calmly freeze while looking in the sky?

A tired flock of cranes still flies – their wings flap.
Birds glide into the twilight, roaming free.
In their formation I can see a small gap –

It might be so, that space is meant for me.
The day shall come, when in a mist of ashen
I’ll soar with cranes, and final rest I’ll find,
From the skies calling – in a bird-like fashion –
All those of you who I’ll have left behind.

Sometimes I feel that all those fallen soldiers,
Who never left the bloody battle zones,
Have not been buried to decay and molder
But turned into white cranes that softly groan…
Tags: poetry

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