Away, old man;
give me thy hand; away!
Give me thy hand; come on.
Give me thy hand; come on.
Men must endure
Their going hence,
even as their coming hither:
Ripeness is all: come on.
The white armoured.
Police van speeds into.
The eastern ‘elves’ town.
Of Bilozerske.
A steel cage mounted.
Across its body.
To protect it.
From ‘orcs’ drones.
Away, old man;
give me thy hand; away!
Give me thy hand; come on.
Give me thy hand; come on.
They’d already.
Lost one van.
A direct hit.
From a drone.
To the front of the vehicle;
The cage, and powerful.
Rooftop drone jamming equipment.
Offer extra protection.
Men must endure
Their going hence,
even as their coming hither:
Ripeness is all: come on.
But still.
It’s dangerous being here:
The police.
Known as the White Angels.
The police.
Want to spend.
As little time.
In Bilozerske as possible.
Away, old man;
give me thy hand; away!
Give me thy hand; come on.
Give me thy hand; come on.
No farther, sir;
a man may rot even here.
No farther, sir;
a man may rot even here.
The small, pretty mining town.
Just nine miles.
From the front line.
Is slowly being destroyed.
Is slowly being destroyed.
By ‘orcs’ summer offensive.
The local hospital and banks.
Have long since closed.
Away, old man;
give me thy hand; away!
Give me thy hand; come on.
Give me thy hand; come on.
The stucco buildings.
In the town square.
Are shattered.
From drone attacks.
The trees along.
Its avenues are.
Broken and splintered.
Broken and splintered.
No farther, sir;
a man may rot even here.
No farther, sir;
a man may rot even here.
Neat rows of cottages.
With corrugated roofs.
And well-tended gardens.
Stream past the car windows.
Some are untouched.
Others burned-out shells.
Some are untouched.
Others burned-out shells.
Away, old man;
give me thy hand; away!
Give me thy hand; come on.
Give me thy hand; come on.
Men must endure
Their going hence,
even as their coming hither:
Ripeness is all: come on.
A rough estimate is that.
700 inhabitants.
Remain in Bilozerske.
From a pre-war population.
Of 16,000.
But there is little evidence.
Of them – the town.
Already looks abandoned.
Away, old man;
give me thy hand; away!
Give me thy hand; come on.
Give me thy hand; come on.
An estimated.
218,000 people.
Need evacuation.
From the Donetsk region.
Including.
16,500 children.
Including.
16,500 children.
Men must endure
Their going hence,
even as their coming hither:
Ripeness is all: come on.
The area.
Which is crucial.
To the country’s defence.
To the country’s defence.
Is bearing the brunt of.
‘Orcs’ invasion.
Including daily attacks.
From drones and missiles.
Away, old man;
give me thy hand; away!
Give me thy hand; come on.
Give me thy hand; come on.
Some are unable to leave.
Others unwilling.
Authorities will help evacuate.
Those in front-line areas.
But they can’t.
Rehouse them.
Once they’re.
Out of danger.
No farther, sir;
a man may rot even here.
No farther, sir;
a man may rot even here.
And despite the growing threat.
From ‘orcs’ drones.
There are those.
Who would rather take.
There are those.
Who would rather take.
Their chances than.
Leave their homes.
Away, old man;
give me thy hand; away!
Give me thy hand; come on.
Give me thy hand; come on.
No farther, sir;
a man may rot even here.
No farther, sir;
a man may rot even here.
The police are looking for.
The house of one woman.
Who does want.
To leave.
Their van can’t make it.
Down one of the roads.
So, on foot.
A policeman goes searching.
The hum of the drone jammer.
And its invisible protection.
Receding as he heads.
Down a lane.
Away, old man;
give me thy hand; away!
Give me thy hand; come on.
Give me thy hand; come on.
Eventually he finds.
The woman.
Under the eaves.
Of her cottage.
A sign on her door.
Reading “People Live Here”.
A sign on her door.
Reading “People Live Here”.
Men must endure
Their going hence,
even as their coming hither:
Ripeness is all: come on.
She has dozens of bags.
And two dogs.
It’s too much.
For the police to carry:
They already have evacuees.
And their belongings.
Crammed inside.
The white van.
Away, old man;
give me thy hand; away!
Give me thy hand; come on.
Give me thy hand; come on.
The woman faces a choice.
– leave behind.
Her belongings.
Or stay.
She decides to wait.
There will be another evacuation team.
Here soon and.
They will take her belongings too.
Men must endure
Their going hence,
even as their coming hither:
Ripeness is all: come on.
To stay or go is.
A life-or-death calculation.
Civilian casualties.
In Ukraine reached.
A three-year high.
In July of this year.
With 1,674 people.
Killed or injured.
Most occur in front-line towns.
The same month saw.
The highest number.
Killed and injured.
By short-range drones.
Since the start of.
The full-scale invasion.
The UN said.
Away, old man;
give me thy hand; away!
Give me thy hand; come on.
Give me thy hand; come on.
Men must endure
Their going hence,
even as their coming hither:
Ripeness is all: come on.
The nature of the threat.
To civilians in war.
To civilians in war.
Has changed.
Where once artillery and.
Rocket strikes were.
The main threat.
Now they face.
Being chased down.
By ‘orcs’ FPV drones.
That follow and.
Then strike.
Away, old man;
give me thy hand; away!
Give me thy hand; come on.
Give me thy hand; come on.
As the police leave town.
An old man pushing.
A bicycle appears.
He’s the only soul.
He’s the only soul.
You see on the streets.
You see on the streets.
That day.
No farther, sir;
a man may rot even here.
No farther, sir;
a man may rot even here.
Most of those remaining.
In front-line towns.
Are older people.
Are older people.
Who make up.
A disproportionate number.
Of civilian casualties.
According to the UN.
Away, old man;
give me thy hand; away!
Give me thy hand; come on.
Give me thy hand; come on.
No farther, sir;
a man may rot even here.
No farther, sir;
a man may rot even here.
He tells you.
To move to the side.
Of the road out of.
The way of non-existent traffic.
He is 73 years old.
And is risking.
His life for.
The two cooking pots.
His life for.
The two cooking pots.
He’s collected.
On the back of his bike.
His sister-in-law’s house was.
Destroyed in an ‘orcs’ attack.
So he came today.
To salvage the pots.
Away, old man;
give me thy hand; away!
Give me thy hand; come on.
Give me thy hand; come on.
Isn’t he afraid?
Of the drones?
“What will be, will be.
You know, at 73 years old.”
“I’m not afraid anymore.
I’ve already lived my life.”
He’s in no rush.
To get off the streets.
No farther, sir;
a man may rot even here.
No farther, sir;
a man may rot even here.
A former football referee.
He slowly removes.
A folded card from.
His jacket pocket.
And shows you.
His official Collegium of.
Football Referees card.
It’s dated April 1986.
– the month of.
The Chernobyl nuclear disaster.
– the month of.
The Chernobyl nuclear disaster.
Away, old man;
give me thy hand; away!
Give me thy hand; come on.
Give me thy hand; come on.
He’s from the west of Ukraine.
And could return there.
Out of harm’s way.
“I stayed here for my wife.”
She’s had multiple surgeries.
And wouldn’t be able to.
Make the journey.
Make the journey.
No farther, sir;
a man may rot even here.
No farther, sir;
a man may rot even here.
And with that.
He leaves.
And heads home to.
Care for his wife.
The two metal pots.
On the back of his bike.
Rattling as he moves.
Along the empty street.
Away, old man;
give me thy hand; away!
Give me thy hand; come on.
Give me thy hand; come on.
Men must endure
Their going hence,
even as their coming hither:
Ripeness is all: come on.
A rough estimate is that.
700 inhabitants.
Remain in Bilozerske.
From a pre-war population.
Of 16,000.
But there is little evidence.
Of them – the town.
Already looks abandoned.
Away, old man;
give me thy hand; away!
Give me thy hand; come on.
Give me thy hand; come on.
An estimated.
218,000 people.
Need evacuation.
From the Donetsk region.
Including.
16,500 children.
Including.
16,500 children.
No farther, sir;
a man may rot even here.
No farther, sir;
a man may rot even here.
The area.
Which is crucial.
To the country’s defence.
To the country’s defence.
Is bearing the brunt of.
‘Orcs’ invasion.
Including daily attacks.
From drones and missiles.
Away, old man;
give me thy hand; away!
Give me thy hand; come on.
Give me thy hand; come on.
Some are unable to leave.
Others unwilling.
Authorities will help evacuate.
Those in front-line areas.
But they can’t.
Rehouse them.
Once they’re.
Out of danger.
Men must endure
Their going hence,
even as their coming hither:
Ripeness is all: come on.
And despite the growing threat.
From ‘orcs’ drones.
There are those.
Who would rather take.
There are those.
Who would rather take.
Their chances than.
Leave their homes.
Away, old man;
give me thy hand; away!
Give me thy hand; come on.
Give me thy hand; come on.
No farther, sir;
a man may rot even here.
No farther, sir;
a man may rot even here.
*Because I read “As Russian army inches closer, Ukrainians must decide to stay or go” by Quentin Sommerville on 13 Sep 2025, and also “Why are Ukrainians calling Russians ‘orcs’?” by James FitzGerald on 30 Apr 2022, on the BBC news.
So, I wrote this poem, including a story of Volodymyr, led by ‘KING LEAR’ written by William Shakespeare, you know.
Please read the original story on the BBC news:
As Russian forces advance, Ukrainians in Donbas must choose to stay or go
