| Odessa street, old chestnuts...
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| Black Sea autumn, bullets and fogs...
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| Under formidable fires, in the bitter hour of the night
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| We left the city, our native city ...
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| The trees sadly saw us off.
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| "Where are you from?" |
| they whispered in the darkness.
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| And with longing in our hearts we answered:
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| "We are sailors from Odessa."
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| Since then, we have been in battles more than once,
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| We drove the captured Germans out of the villages.
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| Women were walking towards us at the midnight hour,
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| Our blood brothers hugged us.
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| How the sons of the old woman met us,
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| "Where are you from?" |
| - they repeated with excitement.
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| We went forward and answered quietly:
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| "We are sailors from Odessa."
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| For dear Odessa, for dear home,
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| We are going into battle for our comrade-friends!
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| Well, that the night is dark, that the circle is low -
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| It's not for nothing that our enemies call us devils!
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| "Where are you from?" |
| they shout, “We don’t know.”
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| "What is your strength - we do not understand."
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| And we are at war, we answer with steel:
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| "We are sailors from Odessa."
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| I don't know, autumn or misty winter,
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| We will return to our city, our desired city.
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| But I know my city, dear old house,
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| This time is coming - we will come to you!
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| And the cheerful sound of the surf will meet us,
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| We will knock on our native window.
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| "Where are you from?" |
| "We're straight from the battlefield!"
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| Sailors have come to Odessa! |