Outside the town of Babiyar
There is a small ravine.
Blackbirds fly here.
On this spring day grass
Grows green on the slopes,
Trees rise up,
Trees rise up.
Years ago they died
Privet lines the edge
Where they all went down
Into the vale
Into the vale.
Years have gone
Years have gone, and still
Are children speaking,
Their only language, cries.
And still are mothers speaking
Their only words are tears.
Down fall the men, and still
Our kinship only death.
I see the muzzle flashing
I see the sight lined up
But I cannot see the firing man
As I cannot see myself.
Our bodies are together
Here now, in the vale of Babiyar
Our tears new rain
For the grass grown green
In the vale of Babiyar
And the blackbirds fly here
The blackbirds fly
In the vale of Babiyar.
Joe Ferry
Earth Day April 22, 1990
Birthday of V.I. Lenin
written in Minsk, USSR