"No one is forgotten and nothing is forgotten," this is her voice. The voice that was broadcast on the snow-covered streets of the city, who deserved from hunger, cold and feelings of an inevitable misfortune. Voice of Leningrad himself. Voice of Olga Bergolz.
Silent and gentle on kind of blonde with transparent eyes - who would have thought that there could be so many strength in it? Olga moved the blockade, and the most often remembered about it. But even the blockade was not the biggest nightmare, the biggest misfortune in her life. And she was able to survive, and she was able to create.
And I had to live. Olga recovered in the Union of Writers, joined the party, worked. She literally pulled on this light, back, husband, Nikolai Molchanov. Without his love, she would disappear. Then he happened 1941. War. And immediately - blockade. My husband was no longer around, he went to the front. Now Olga pulled Leningrad on himself, as Nikolai pulled before Olga. Despite the quiet, delicate voice, she was taken to work for Leningrad Radio. She read the native and beloved city of poems. She encouraged him, comforted, poured his strength into him. Little woman who mentioned from dystrophy, the author of children's books, suddenly became a symbol of the resistance of the Leningraders. It is said that Hitler considered her a personal enemy, along with Ilya Ehredburg. And Nikolai Molchanov died. In 1942.
The redhead and funny daughter Bayekaya His, I'm a loose, night lullaby to sleep,
From the parachute neighboring tower dropped the only dream, under the windows pegs a blue sky umbrella.
Broke out in the sky stars, rays in all ends; Sokolita wander in the nests, and in the benchmarks of the Skvortsa.
Star at night, bird night Slowly Berge I: "Who are you, my daughter, daughter, red, are you mine?
You will be a paratrooper, fly to fly: the sky is low, the stars are close, to dawn a hand!
A white silk will open over the green round world, says Marshal Voroshilov: "That'sked, good!"
Old Marshal Voroshilov will say: "Well, we will know: I decided to send you to the main battle."
And you will come very proud, cry: "Mom, look! Golden beautiful Order, exactly the sun, on the chest ... "
My falcon, parachute, sleep ... Do not have a hump ... Time to sleep ... The sky is low, the stars are close, to dawn a hand ...
Olga often asked about the misfortune of war and never about her personal troubles, the same, maybe huge. She complained:
It is necessary to know the "life of the people", but mine, my bitter and outgoing life - it also means something!So. So much!
... I will not care my enemies of my enemies, so that in false tears they could choose. It is still not a hook, which will hang. Not bought. Not dug ore from the ground. I will stand over the life of the bottomless, over the fear of her, over the Iron Stop ... I know about many things. I remember. I dare. I also stand something terrible ...