by Konstantin Simonov


Wait for me - I will come back, Only wait . . . and wait:

Wait though rain clouds louring black make you desolate:

Wait though winter snowstorms whirl, Wait though summer's hot:

Wait though no one else will wait and the past forgot:


Wait though from the distant front not one letter comes:

Wait though every one who waits, Sick of it becomes:


Wait for me - I will come back. Pay no heed to those

Who'll so glibly tell you that, It is vain to wait.

Though my mother and my son Think that I am gone,

Though my friends abandon hope And back there at home

Rise and toast my memory, Wrapped in silence pained,

Wait. And when they drink that toast, leave your glass undrained.


Wait for me - I will come back, Though from Death's own jaws

Let the friends who did not wait think it chance, no more

They will never understand Those who did not wait

How it was your waiting, that Saved me from my fate.

And the reason I've come through, We shall know, we two:

Simply this: you waited as no one else could do.



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