Road to Life: Alma-Ata for Leningrad

An old akyn (an improvising poet and singer) clenched a dombra in his hands, as if it was a rifle. A blustery wind swept through poplar foliage. At this moment you could hear the whisper of tree crowns, echoes of sirens, fast beats of a metronome, crackling of old loudspeakers and reassuring verses:
 
"May my songs help you
At dawn, my friends. 
The citizens of Leningrad, my children!
The citizens of Leningrad, my pride!"

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