My grandfather

Наталья БЕДНАЯ | Поэзия

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My grandfather

My grandfather filled his pipe with tobacco
And looked somewhere over the horizon,
Somewhere over the hills covered with forest.
He saw in his memories his battlefields.

He went through the war in his youth.
His heart remembered deaths and losses.
But my grandfather didn’t give way to tears,
Exhaling smoke filled with hard memories.


I am extolling Russia in my song.
I love my Motherland with her cornflower fields.
The ordeals Russia had endured made her strong.
She hadn’t kneeled, and now she is steeled.

For many ages Russia knew hard times.
In wars against invaders she strained all her powers.
And nevertheless, you can’t see tears in her eyes.
Her eyes are blue and lovely like cornflowers.

About the author:

Natalia Bednaya is a poet and essayist, a staff member of the literary magazine of the Writers’ Union of Russia “Nevsky Almanac” (St. Petersburg), a member of the Moscow organization of the Writers’ Union of Russia, a member of the International Union of Writers, an author of four books. She was awarded the Certificate of Honor of the Krasnodar organization of the Journalists’ Union of Russia and the Commemorative Medal “300 Years of Mikhail Lomonosov”. She lives in the city of Krasnodar, Russia.

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