Alexandrov (Zhydkova) Nelly Vyacheslavovna
This is That was in the camp "Hayterblyk" h Leipzig Tauha. We uhnaly in July 1943 g s Bryanschynы together with her mother and older brothers dvumya.
My memory, as a pantry, everything else hranyt Heavy memories at lahernoy life.
Natsystы in svoem zverstve yzoschryalys, how could.
Remember, Beside us was a camp of our voennoplennыh. This is That was before the end of war. Nemtsы s not fed A few days. Sweat nakrыly tables, zakrыly barracks, besieged solomoy, doused with gasoline and podozhhly, and we all - adults and children, sohnaly rolled wire, which will be razdelyala camp, this is zrelysche Watch. Painting эta zapechatlelas for all my life.
I CAN walk k dentist. Wailing in draw, when the drill operates. Smell horelыh chelovecheskyh bones presleduet me.
We dismissed in May 1945 g
I wish you all peace, good health. People! Not ozhestochaytes!
Children's Memory
I devochkoy been, sovsem child,
When the sinister enemy
The family of my proshelsya
In hryaznыh sapohah.
And upon the same as sluchytsya
Hear a question someone else, strannыe
words: "Vэk! Vэk! "
They glow pozharysch,
And ahead of Country alien and War.
Like cattle, shruzyly our TRADEMARK vahonы
And they brought, Where no vedal someone,
And tears detskye da adults stonы
Dear in memory prolehlo.
Oh, children's memory! Does ravnoe Naydetsya hey?
Who feel like throwing up with roots in me uh?
And someone zalechyt ranы
In the soul of my destva moeho here?
Neither destva and us at home
There was with us,
And Rodynы remained
In CEI Grozny time.
We áûëî judgments yspyt stradanya cup
Unyzhene, experienced hunger,
In the barbed wire to live,
But That was and given us survive.
Snytsya me often is that the and not before
And the letter paper is not to say
And only zloveschaya and War
Dosele in memory of my live.
I do not want to again wept To Parenting,
To his kindred, they do not teryat,
To Toth Shred of land, which will be vzrastyla s,
No one smog rastoptat us, us to take.
I conjure of all eternity on earth
Tell me people: - Do not bыvat Wars!
Let hromche bet in the warning bell
Toth bell that in Buchenwald.
No! Not bыvat Wars!
N. Alexandrov
