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Slavyansk self-defence shot down 3 helicopters. Fights at the outskrits of Slavyansk and Kramatorsk


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#2821 Ivan88

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Posted 03 July 2018 - 03:09 PM

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Terrorists from the sinogog of satan.   They have no resurrection.  Maybe the hired gun has a chance.


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#2822 wirehaired

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Posted 18 July 2018 - 08:38 PM

They asked for it.


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#2823 USC

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Posted 18 August 2018 - 10:54 PM

18+

 

Not a happy raid of the Ukrainian special forces to the rear of the Donetsk Republic in November 2017, then three of them were killed and one was captured. The Ukrainian operator (then wounded and evacuated to the Ukranian rear) now posted this video.

 


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#2824 USC

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Posted 07 September 2018 - 02:34 AM

F.....k!!!

I Just knew.

 

Translate text by yourself I heard about how his mother died in the Ukro-Gestapo cellars...

 

 

 

«Погиб храбрый русский ополченец Орленко Евгений с позывным «Домовой».

 

 

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«Вчера погиб храбрый русский ополченец Орленко Евгений с позывным «Домовой».

 

Годы жизни: 05.08.1994-04.09.2018.

 

Он был совсем молодой. Родители сначала выехали из Славянска, а потом вернулись. Мать арестовали до смерти ЗАМУЧИЛИ укры. Евгений участвовал в обороне Славянска принимал участие в штурме Иловайска и Донецкого аэропорта. Вечная память! Нет больше «Домовёнка». По таким как он не будет громких поминок. Не будет проникновенных, отрепетированных заранее пронизывающих душу слов над могилой от высоких чинов. Не будут строить бровки домиком медийные лица в кадре. Не будет десятков тысяч горожан на похоронах. Он один из многих настоящих, не глянцевых героев, который пришел в ополчение добровольцем в самом начале войны, сделал всё что мог и ушёл. Покойся с миром. Все кто знал тебя, будут помнить.»

 

 

 

my text:

 

His father disappeared into the secret Nazi-basements and most likely was killed the same day. All residents of Slavyansk are ready to confirm that the man was detained and arrested by nationalists (Nazis) ... But then he simply disappeared.
Most likely he was immediately taken to the forest and killed there. There is no evidence that he went to jail.

 

 

 

Pavel Uysov : "Forgive me Mother...I'm at war"

 


Edited by USC, 07 September 2018 - 02:56 AM.

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#2825 USC

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Posted 10 September 2018 - 06:26 PM

Donbass. Mom's birthday.

 

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#2826 Nemesis

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Posted 11 September 2018 - 08:33 AM

What a beautiful young man 


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#2827 USC

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Posted 14 September 2018 - 07:00 PM


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#2828 Nemesis

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Posted 14 September 2018 - 08:09 PM

:clap:  :clap:   :clap:    молодец


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#2829 USC

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Posted 14 September 2018 - 10:59 PM

Nemesis,

 

I hate Moscow, my ex is from there. But I love Sergey Esenin. And Yes.... I love my ex....

 

SONG:

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dog Song – S. Esenin  

Russian Silver Age poetry translations, 6/?

Sergei Esenin: “Dog Song”

Warning: I have never managed to read this poem out loud without crying. This partly drove my choice to do it for my first Esenin: as a way to try, through close reading, to regain control over it. (It didn’t work; now I may just cry in two languages.)

Sergei Esenin or Yesenin (1895-1925) was raised in a rural peasant family, and even when he joined Alexander Blok and Andrei Bely in Petrograd, he didn’t quite fit into the Symbolists, Acmeists or Futurists and ended up co-founding another poetic movement, the Imaginists. He had multiple lovers and marriages, including a short-lived marriage to modern dance pioneer Isadora Duncan (she was eighteen years older than him, knew barely any Russian, and he knew no other languages). He struggled with depression and was found hanged in Leningrad’s Hotel Angleterre at the age of 30. To this day, debates rage as to whether it was truly a suicide, or a set up assassination by the NKVD.

This poem was written when he was only twenty, and shows how familiar he was with the harsh reality of rural life.

Dog Song

As dawn gilded the burlap row
Of bags in the old grain shed,
A bitch there birthed a litter in snow:
Seven pups with fur all red.

Till night she caressed them round
With her tongue combing them neat,
And meltwater trickled down
Under her belly’s heat.

At dusk, when in the henhouse dimly
Hens roost on their perching rack,
The master came out grimly
And laid all seven in a sack.

She bounded across drifts to the river,
Hurrying after his step…
And long, long the smoothness quivered
Of the unfrozen water’s ebb.

When back she came, barely trudging,
Licking sweat off her fur,
The moon rising over the thatching
Seemed one of her pups to her.

Up she stared, softly whining
At the sky dark-blue and still.
The moon slid by, slim and shining,
And vanished behind the hill.

And like when they mock her, throwing
Not meat but pebbles cold,
Dully, dog eyes went flowing
Down in snow like stars of gold.

Sergei Esenin, 1915; translation by Tamara Vardomskaya, July 2016.

 


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