Night behind bars burns,
Sun burns coal,
And softly humming a song
On prison bunks boy.
He sings as hard to live without a mother,
Without love and affectionate friends,
He sings as difficult to live without will,
The entire prison listened, around.
Crying in distant chambers girls,
Remembering my youth,
Remembering: somewhere and sometime
Said affectionately: & quot; I like & quot ;.
Even the most strict warden
Against the wall, lost in thought, it is worth.
He alone, paskuda knows
That night the boy left to live.
Early in the morning clicked the shutter,
Under escort took him.
And it was the last word:
& Quot; Give my son! & Quot;
Son ran on the landing ramp,
The little boy, six years old,
Rushed to the neck, shouted: & quot; Dad,
Rodnenky, take with you, take it! & Quot;
& Quot; you are flying, doves, flying,
You fly to distant lands,
And beloved mother tell
That the long-dead so I do not & quot;
Night behind bars too burnt out,
Burnt out much of the sun ember.
But none of the songs are not heard,
In the morning, the boy was shot.
