i listen to vet ren, saur magil with the hand of the peace of wild herbs, here courage with battles passed the legend for us to the vekistan, the soldiers went with blood, and they were ship. i am hot-blooded a mile to breathe the height of your very first war it was a 1969 conflict in damansky, like kvass then it changed you then, what did you see there, what happened to you here here you went there alone returned with another or how i was a bohemian young man moreover , i was a franceur i left my military institute and left my house and left my friends. and maybe in protest. i left as a forester in the village, but damansky and koran happened . this is a few months. i was invited to a literary newspaper. they liked my colorful essays on russian toys in russian songs. i went there to domansky street, and suddenly i realized that i had stumbled upon a terrible modern story. if before i was fond of folk songs, weeping, i went through the villages looking for a towel and iconic when mothers flew in damascus and their great ones. the tents were kept in red coffins, the murdered sons. i sudden