«Son, could you take me for Easter? I’m so weary of the smell of medicine.
«Son, will you take me for Easter?
I’m so worn out from the scent of medicine.
There’s constant construction, the workers are painting,
I’ll sign all the forms without a second thought.
I need to visit Maria’s grave,
I haven’t been there in three long years.
Day after day, I’m losing my strength,
And soon the ravens will begin to circle.
Don’t worry, I’ll just lie down in the hall,
I’ll only be home for two days.
I’ll personally sign the papers with the chief doctor,
Son, will you take me for Easter?
Alone in the ward, everyone’s been taken,
I sit all day by the window like an owl.
All the patients who could walk have already left!
There’s no one left, just silence…
Vasily sighed and gazed out the window,
The sky was blue, and a few clouds drifted by.
A cat dashed toward the kitchen block,
But he wasn’t ready to bring his father home yet…
Still, he said out loud that he’d come by tomorrow
And take him wherever he needed to go.
He’d bathe him, dress him in fresh clothes,
A day would pass, and that would be fine.
When he got home, he told his wife
That he wanted to bring his father back.
He’d been thinking about it in his free time,
After all, his father was his own blood.
His wife jumped up from the chair like a spring,
Saying that the house was a mess because of him.
She shut down the visit idea immediately,
Quickly putting everything in its place.
The day passed by unnoticed, like a bird in flight,
Distant relatives arrived at her place.
All the problems were swept away like a breeze,
And there were only toasts, laughter, and chatter.
The sun set behind the hospital garden,
The old man watched it from his window.
He truly believed his son would come,
Maybe stuck in traffic, it’s a long journey.
He smiled, silently imagining the plans,
How he’d sit in silence by the grave.
The old wounds from the war had long healed,
But one still bled in his heart.
The nurse returned, bringing him porridge and tea,
The cook had baked an Easter cake,
If he was alone, it meant it was just for him.
«Why didn’t anyone take you for the holiday?»
The doctor signed all the papers for his son!
Last week, everything was handed over to him,
The head of the ward gave his approval.
The old man remained silent, quietly weeping,
In the dark, empty room.
Forgotten and abandoned, like a stray dog,
He had become a stranger to his own son…
The holiday passed, the guests left.
The son, bags in hand, made his way to his father.
The weekend flew by like a speeding bullet,
I’ll at least let the old man have some soup…
He climbed the stairs to the ward,
His footsteps echoed in the empty hall.
He didn’t want to argue with his wife,
He was already prepared for her answer.
The mattress was rolled up, what on earth?
His father’s bed was empty, vacant…
There had to be a reason,
Where did the seriously ill man go?
With a sinking heart, he rushed to the nurse…
«It was a massive heart attack, no secret here.
The relatives must’ve forgotten, probably in a rush,
He waited, he worried, and that’s the whole truth.
He quietly passed away by the window,
We simply couldn’t save him.
Our world has gone mad today,
He just needed warmth and a little love…»
Poet: Yuri Kalugin
