Do Not Call Me, Father

I have been looking for this poem for some time. Has to be reblogged

Mere Observations

As I talked about in this post, Nolan and I have been watching The World At War on DVD. This poem, read by Sir Laurence Olivier, particularly struck me as a father with a young son. It’s heartbreaking in its simplicity and emotion.

Do Not Call Me, Father
Anonymous, Soviet Union, 1942

(Son to father…)

Do not call me, father. Do not seek me.
Do not call me. Do not wish me back.
We’re on a route uncharted, fire and blood erase our track.
On we fly on wings of thunder, never more to sheath our swords.
All of us in battle fallen – not to be brought back by words.

Will there be a rendezvous? I know not. I only know we still must fight.
We are sand grains in infinity, never to meet, nevermore to see light.

(Father to son…)

Farewell then my son. Farewell then my…

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