Rainy April morning. togue In a desperate cycle has moved forty thousand hands, forty thousand hand

Early, premature, was in the horrors of war second spring. With instant the snow fog dispersed by Zora Prisank only in the deep corner togue Skedenjskega snežišča is a thin veil covered togue his dark and deep cracks. In a strange restlessness was trembling you. Day after day they vomit trains new column, piling up the ammunition in the fields, the mountains are funds grow food. At dark evenings are short flashes intersect the sky, all the fire was shining Prisank ... Hard and difficult to be pounded Italian has. In those days, the wielder of a move from Clear it forward, forward, planted a red and white measuring poles for a new, indispensable togue road. And she went the route through torrential Pišence through the juicy grass-meadows; zajedala in the deep serpentine mecesnove in a centuries-old forests, climbed through the crumbling rocks, always higher and higher into sharp ZASEKA to the pass, and from there again fell over the steep grassy slopes in the Soca valley.
Rainy April morning. togue In a desperate cycle has moved forty thousand hands, forty thousand hands has gotten the shovels, forty thousand hands swung picks. In Vožičih the gaping earth as blood red clay was falling loads, in Pišencah have in friable rock drill zajedli and there on the vzpenemo impounded torrents: the road was built ... Pounded as picks, shovels are zasipavale, groaning as a pump machine, pulled the horses: the road had gathered momentum, forty thousand hands - twenty thousand Russians - the coral in it their blisters, their suffering, their lives. Twenty thousand souls for one road. It was built by the Volga boatmen, with their beautiful togue song ever built by the sons of the plains, steppes and tundra, with its immense yearning for home expanse of hatred to the high mountains and effervescent science. It was built by the Cossacks Donetskiy extinguished pride in the mouth and a curved back.
Expand the road. Pounded the picks, hesitate hands, dying people: togue road ditch, moist and dark, they were grave. togue From morning till evening he tortured and insane ruler paced rush you. In sharp serpentine road is turned right at the place Robičje. togue In its narrow valley in the serene summer evening planted a priest Dimitrije shovel: over a couple of nights togue vzrasla church, a small church and it Madonna with a black face. As consolation was that the church togue as a monument togue as cross tombstone for the souls of the living and the dead martyrs. However, the species is around her grave to grave, there was hardly any more space in this quiet and peaceful valley, full of red berries, which are as bloody cloth grazed along the banks of a limpid stream. togue Pounded the bells of garnet, their sound was mixed by tapping shovels and picks. With a sigh dying ...
The road continued to grow. In sharp spiral has sprained Robičju in two consecutive bridges overcame a wild stream and passed to gently climb. Here again is a move ruler: late generations he wanted to show his abilities. In a few days they upgraded martyrs comfortable status, current cottage in the forest. In it were sprawled torturers that they are easier and faster togue drives and tortured, that can be watched through the windows of a long series of dark, spruce crosses ... forty thousand togue hands ... However, it dropped mecesnov dark woods, sighed deeply as spruce as the souls of the martyrs. Next, on the steep curves ascended the road. The massive and magnificent viaduct over steep scree again ate the victim and the victim. So what this is ... road has grown ... lift the past three springs: all three are captured, each in its own sink. Three wells ... Can be expressed in them a reflection of soft Russian soul. Perhaps it is in these three covered springs sufferer threw a last look with faith, hope and love to a better and brighter days.
Summer is rushed into naročaj autumn. For the sieve under Prisankovim window in Dry Pišenci were cooked mist. Bad omen rainy days. The jets has rained for weeks: picks are pounded, shovels togue accumulate; oy, forty thousand rivers, forty thousand half-dead bodies! - In sharp lard and steep climb, the road passed current Erjavčeva hut RLA people, togue together with typhus. Again, the sow crude crosses around and around the cabin, even right there in the rocky caves of them have a filler body.
Coming winter. Icy storm howled from Bovec Grintovec Jalovca, with enormous power he shaved over the pass and brought winter. Fallen snow, they dry snow, combined with a non-transferable cold. No discounts ruler, togue snow shovels, the aryl, with the last pick of punching power is in the cold and hard ground. The road lifts in a couple of weeks peaked and merged togue with the one with the Trenta side. It is also winter went by. Behind the slices, flooring south wind is blowing, slowly but steadily the lick in rock crawling togue under the snow and it loosened. Hey Spring! As in greeting're still you requested vprav on their doorstep, 250 victims. You unearth them too deep, snowy grave. Too many have asked! Forty thousand hands: day-to-day extinguished hearts, glass eyes. forty thousand hands: how many of blisters, suffering, how many crosses ...
This was. Is difficult and terrible memory. Five thousand crosses creeps p