《All my thoughts are about you,
My heart is stolen.
It is only the first of June,
But my spirit falls.
I haven't enough forces
To stop separation.
If only I had a choice...
Pane. Ache. Hurt.
My heart is breaking, crashing.
But you don't hear.
Being without heart is a fashion,
Though it's impossible to live.
Give me a knife, it isn't hard.
Give me it, please.
Everything is safe apart
My soul. I don't live.
These are my last words,
A knife is in the hand.
Soon you will see a corpse
If you, of course, come.》
He stopped reading a letter,
This is the last action.
Maybe it would be better -
To die is a fashion.
A solder can't choose a fate.
His end is known.
He goes to Afterlife Gate
And does not return.
A wife should only wait,
Suffer, suffer, suffer...
Until it's not to late -
The person has already died.
There is no a guilt of the solder.
To serve is his debt.
And his heart isn't the coldest,
It can't be always kept.
The solder went to the fight
Which was the last.
There wasn't a sunlight
Which encouraged to live.
He was pierced with a spear,
And stopped to breathe.
- Their graves you can see there
With a label "R.I.P.", -
Said the guide to the group
Of amazed people.
Different fates are cooked
In this world.