And you my friends who have been called away

And you, my friends who have been called away,

I have been spared to mourn for you and weep,

Not as a frozen willow over your memory,

But to cry to the world the names of those who sleep.

What names are those!

I slam shut the calendar,

Down on your knees, all!

Blood of my heart,

The people of Leningrad march out in even rows,

The living, the dead : fame can't tell them apart.