I feel I'd like to be alone <br />with you, friend, if you'll stay: <br />my time on earth is nearly gone; <br />at least that's what they say. <br />And you'll be going home on leave: <br />mind you… what odds? I do believe, <br />to tel the truth, not many <br />will give a brass halfpenny. <br /> <br />If anyone should ask of you… <br />well, anyone at all… <br />you tell them where that bullet flew <br />right through the chest, one ball: <br />'He died with honour for the Tsar' <br />- and say how bad our surgeons are - <br />'and to his habitation <br />he sent his salutation.' <br /> <br />You'll likely find that my old dad <br />and mother both are dead… <br />I wouldn't want to make them sad <br />or send them tears to shed; <br />but if you find that they're all right, <br />just say I haven't time to write, <br />the regiment's campaigning <br />and there's no use complaining. <br /> <br />They've got a woman neighbour there? <br />God knows how long ago <br />we parted!… She will hardly care <br />to ask you.. Let it go, <br />tell her the truth, leave out no part, <br />no need to spare an empty heart; <br />she'll shed a tear or two there… <br />but it means nothing to her!<br /><br />Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/testament-8/
