In the walls of a restaurant thereís a usual sight: Three bears, a shot dead spreaded knight. A captainís sitting lonely, the bears beside. "Can sit here" - I asked. "Thatís all right." "Here you, smoke!" - "Iím sorry, donít smoke Kazbek", "Should you drink then?! A glass! Hereís a pot". "Well, Iíll wait them to fetch..." - "Drink, and not a step back! Healthy be!" - "Iíll be healthy a lot." "What of it?" - The captain exclaimed, gotten more or less drunk, - "Drinking vodka youíve managed not bad! But, have you ever been close to a machine-gun or a tank, Have you ever, say, rushed to an attack?" "In 43-rd, under Kursk, was a sergeant that time, Lots of things are behind of my back. Dirty things were left over the back of mine! - To enable you to live so well packed." He kept cursing and drank, I was following his step. Yet, at the end of the whole conversation, Insulted I him: "Well, captain, I bet, Be a major is a vain expectation". Then he cried, and he asked me about my dad, And he jelled looking dully at dishes: "Iíve given up all my life for your sake, a bad, bastard, spending his life as he wishes!" "I would give you a rifle and would send to a fight, Filthy scoundrel gulping vodka with me?!" I was feeling myself at the Kursk Bow site Where the captain used a sergeant to be.
© Vyacheslav Chistyakov. Translation, 2009