Fears
The wild grasses rustle over Babi Yar,
The trees look stern, like judges.
Here all things scream silently, and, hat in hand,
I feel my hair turning grey.
And I myself am one long soundless scream
- from Yevegeny Yevtushenko, Babi Yar
The wild grasses rustle over Babi Yar,
The trees look stern, like judges.
Here all things scream silently, and, hat in hand,
I feel my hair turning grey.
And I myself am one long soundless scream
- from Yevegeny Yevtushenko, Babi Yar