| For the fourth day the villages are burning,
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| The Don land is sweating with rain.
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| Do not lose heart, lieutenant Golitsyn,
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| Cornet Obolensky, pour some wine.
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| Familiar faces flash by the Arbat,
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| From the alley, the gypsies enter the tavern.
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| Serve glasses, lieutenant Golitsyn,
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| Cornet Obolensky, pour some wine.
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| And somewhere, after all, troikas are rushing by,
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| Alas, we do not understand what our fault is.
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| Do not lose heart, lieutenant Golitsyn,
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| Cornet Obolensky, saddle your horse.
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| And at dusk the horses rush to the Yar,
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| Well, sad, my young cornet.
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| And in our rooms sit commissars
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| And our girls are led to the office.
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| Above the gloomy Don we go with a squadron,
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| Russia, the country, inspires to fight.
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| Hand out the cartridges, lieutenant Golitsyn,
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| Cornet Obolensky, put on orders!
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| Ah, the Russian sun, the great sun,
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| The ship "Emperor" froze like an arrow...
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| Lieutenant Golitsyn, maybe we'll return,
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| Why do we need a foreign land, lieutenant. |