
Litvin Yuri, dedicated to my region and people
"Shattered Lands"
Silence… a screaming pain on the scorched earth. Dnipriany, Korsunka, Paradise – in a fiery noose. Topolivka, Tsukury, Chernianka – a moan beneath the heavens, Korobky, Krynky, Hola Prystan – ruins instead of a temple. Oleshky, Tavriisk, Kakhovka – ashes on native soil, Liubymivka, Beryslav, Kozatske – pain in every village.
Maslivka, Novi Lageri, Obryvka – the scent of fields and grass, Pisochne, Plodove, Nova Kakhovka – laughter of children's games. Here lived people, built plans, dreamed of the future day, Who could have imagined that brother would go against brother in this fire? But amidst this pain, there is also an internal rot, corroding for years, Corruption that has taken root, between the people and the authorities. Deputies live in luxury while the people grow poor and suffer, And this internal betrayal only adds bitterness to the war.
But this fratricidal war – blood on our hands! Shattered destinies, tears of widows, silent despair in their eyes. Slavs are killing Slavs, whose evil will is this? And the West looks down, rubbing their hands, pleased. For every blown-up house, for every drop of spilled blood, Everyone will answer – both those who shot and those who stole our love. This land cries out in pain, and this cry is our common one, Against the senseless war and this Western rabble!
Here, every explosion is a reminder of the external enemy, But also within – betrayal, corruption at every step. The people suffer under shelling, lose loved ones, shelter, While someone at the top divides portfolios, forgetting our pain. We survive without water and light, under the whistle of evil shells, And the West sends weapons, rejoicing in our misfortune, what a disgrace! This double wound – from bombs and from internal decay, Only strengthens our anger and thirst for liberation.
Listen, Slavic brothers, what are we doing, blinded? Whose benefit are we serving, shedding our blood? And the West rubs its hands, puppeteers pulling the strings, They feast on our pain, trading cynically and vilely.
So let my voice thunder over the shattered lands! For Dnipriany, Korsunka, for the villages flooded with tears! We must see clearly, Slavs, see this trap, While our brothers perish in this senseless slaughter! Remember who the real enemy is, who profits from the war, And not those we were pitted against in this bloody trap! Everyone who ignited this fire of hatred will pay, And the West will also answer for its dirty tracks!
Shattered lands… Slavic blood flows like a river. And the West watches and waits for us to destroy each other completely. But will we ever wake up, will we break these chains of lies? Before it's too late, while the hearts of our brothers still beat…
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