“O mother, my heart burns up! My heart burns like a fire.”
The world in her eyes turned black, and she fainted as quietly
As a flower under a leaf droops in a blazing sun.
In a village graveyard old there stands a cross of oak.
Under it dreams a girl; she has dreamt this many a year.
And her loved one from the war has never, never returned.
In a far-off land, somewhere, he fell into dreamless sleep.
POEMS BY FEDKOVICH[[72]]
WHERE LUCK LIES
You, my brother, stayed at home,