I have enjoyed reading some of the Russian WWII war poetry, which differs a lot from the WWI poets, such as Owen, Sassoon etc. Whereas these and other WWI poets focused on the horror/injustice of war, the Russian war poets focused more on patriotic glory, the glorious Motherland, the honour of fighting and dying for Mother Russia etc. The style is very different. Here are some examples: It's not for us to calmly rot in graves. We'll lie stretched out in our half-open coffins And hear before the dawn the cannon coughing, The regimental bugle calling gruffly From highways which we trod, our land to save. We know by heart all rules and regulations. What's death to us? A thing that we despise. Lined up in graves, our dead detachment lies Awaiting orders. And let generations To come, when talking of the dead, be wise; Dead men have ears and eyes for truth and lies. Nicolai Mayorov Translated by Dorian Rottenberg In February 1942 Nikolai Mayorov, political instructor of a machine-gun company, died in action in Smolensk Region. ODESSA, CITY MINE! We rose at dawn, When night crept close to day. The wind that blew was fresh and light and fitful, A little briny and a little bitter. As on an open palm the sea before us lay, With fishing boats its surface strewn, the advent Of morning marking.... Under foam-washed boulders (Quite large they were and black and sleek and shiny), Beneath dark sea-weed, butter-soft and slimy, The bullheads moved their bulky tops, and twisted Their narrow tails. The ship to the horizon Was firmly glued. The sparkle of the rising Sun hurt the eyes. The contours of the misty Shores were a trifle vague and undefined. We`ll not surrender you, Odessa, city mine! Let death walk every street; With hoarse and choking sound, Let homes in flame go up and topple to the ground. Let acrid smoke eat at our eyes, let bread Give off the smell of powder and of lead - Odessa, city mine, My friend and comrade true, Odessa, city mine, We`ll not surrender you! Vsevolod Bagritsky 1941 Translated by Irina Zheleznova Vsevolod Bagritsky was fallen by an enemy bullet while jotting down some facts passed on to him by one of the men. This was on February 26, 1942, in the village of Dubovik, the Leningrad Region. I am Goya of the bare field, by the enemy’s beak gouged till the craters of my eyes gape I am grief I am the tongue of war, the embers of cities on the snows of the year 1941 I am hunger I am the gullet of a woman hanged whose body like a bell tolled over a blank square I am Goya O grapes of wrath! I have hurled westward the ashes of the uninvited guest! and hammered stars into the unforgetting sky - like nails I am Goya Andrey Voznesensky Translated by Stanley Kunitz Voznesensky isn't a war poet in the truest sense, ie he wasn't in active service, having been born in 1933, but his memories of the war is the theme of this poem. He was denounced by Khrushchev in 1963, but in 1978 was awarded the USSR State Prize. There aren't many war poems on the net, but you will find some more here: The Voice of Russia (CHAPTER DEVOTED TO THE SECOND WORLD WAR) Related books: The Road To The West - Sixty Soviet War Poems (rare) Let the Living Remember: Soviet War Poetry (v. rare) Hope this is of interest! If you know of any more, please post them!