There was a roaring
in the wind all night;
The rain came heavily
and fell in floods;
But now the sun is rising
calm and bright;
The birds are singing
in the distant woods;
Rescue workers are.
Using specialist equipment.
To clear the rubble.
From building number 25.
Whilst all around there.
Are hundreds of.
Shattered windows.
And damaged doors.
That were blown out.
By the blast wave.
That were blown out.
By the blast wave.
Over his own sweet voice
the Stock-dove broods;
The Jay makes answer
as the Magpie chatters;
And all the air is filled with
pleasant noise of waters.
All things that love the sun
are out of doors;
The smell of burning is.
No longer in the air.
But it is thick.
With construction dust.
From the clearing.
Of the rubble.
This dust is everywhere.
This dust is everywhere.
– on the trees.
On the cars.
On people.
After two hours here.
It feels as though.
It’s getting inside you.
And makes you.
Want to sneeze.
The sky rejoices
in the morning’s birth;
The grass is bright
with rain-drops;—on the moors
The hare is running races
in her mirth;
And with her feet
she from the plashy earth
A man is sitting.
On a bench.
He’s wearing work gloves;
his clothes are dirty.
And he looks.
Tired and exhausted.
His flat is intact.
His flat is intact.
But as soon as he heard.
The first explosion.
He ran to help others.
He ran to help others.
‘I’ll tell thee everything I can;
There’s little to relate,
I saw an aged aged man,
A-sitting on a gate.
“Who are you, aged man?” I said.
“And how is it you live?”
And his answer trickled through my head
Like water through a sieve.
“I had a friend here;
her mum is paralysed.
So I had to help.”
So I had to help.”
“There were also people.
Who’d been injured.
I helped evacuate them.”
I helped evacuate them.”
But I was thinking of a plan
To dye one’s whiskers green,
And always use so large a fan
That they could not be seen.
So, having no reply to give
To what the old man said,
I cried, “Come, tell me how you live!”
And thumped him on the head.
He has been living.
In Lviv.
Since 2022.
Since 2022.
He is a displaced person.
From the east.
He says he has taken.
First-aid courses.
Many times and.
Watched lots of videos.
So he knew.
Who to save first.
But I was thinking of a way
To feed oneself on batter,
And so go on from day to day
Getting a little fatter.
I shook him well from side to side,
Until his face was blue:
“Come, tell me how you live,” I cried,
“And what is it you do!”
“The first people.
I saw were a couple.
With visual impairments.
I led them to shelter.”
“Then, after the all-clear.
I looked for their pets.
And helped them.
Gather their belongings.”
And now, if e’er by chance I put
My fingers into glue,
Or madly squeeze a right-hand foot
Into a left-hand shoe,
Or if I drop upon my toe
A very heavy weight,
I weep, for it reminds me so,
Of that old man I used to know –
“You see, over there.
Where the wall is.
– that’s where.
The fire was.”
“The floor slabs.
Collapsed into the flat.
Where no one was.
That flat was actually on fire.”
“It was locked.
As it were.”
“It was locked.
As it were.”
“And there was all sorts of.
Rubbish lying around.
So that’s what caught fire.”
Recalls the man.
I could have laughed myself
to scorn to find
In that decrepit Man
so firm a mind.
“God,” said I,
“be my help and stay secure;
I’ll think of the Leech-gatherer
on the lonely moor!”
*Because I read “”Прокидаюся вся у склі. Але я жива”. Репортаж з-під розтрощених російським ударом будинків у Львові(‘I wake up covered in glass. But I’m alive.’ A report from among the buildings in Lviv that were destroyed by a Russian strike) ” by Natalia Patrikeeva on 30 Jul 2026 on the BBC news Ukraine, and also “Why are Ukrainians calling Russians ‘orcs’?” by James FitzGerald on 30 Apr 2022 on the BBC news.
So, I wrote this poem, as a story of Valentin, led by ‘THROUGH the LOOKING-GLASS’ written by Lewis Carroll, and ‘Resolution and Independence’ written by William Wordsworth, you know.
Please read the original story on the BBC news Ukraine:
