| At the wounded birch in the spring
|
| The juice from the wound will flow with blood,
|
| And how many months do I have in a row
|
| Broken Grozny dreams of everything at night.
|
| And Zhenya is dreaming, brother from OMON,
|
| Only once we drank bitter with him.
|
| He would be alive, so we would use him more than once,
|
| And a hundred by a hundred, poured for health.
|
| But before the eyes of the armored personnel carrier again.
|
| He lies on the armor, does not move.
|
| Russia, your one of the sons
|
| If you close your eyes, you won't wake up again.
|
| And how many of them died there in Grozny,
|
| Such as Zhenya, older and younger,
|
| And how many memory crashed the war,
|
| Will pop up before the eyes, trembling on the skin.
|
| At the wounded birch in the spring
|
| The juice from the wound will flow with blood,
|
| And how many months do I have in a row
|
| Broken Grozny dreams of everything at night.
|
| But before the eyes of the armored personnel carrier again.
|
| He lies on the armor, does not move.
|
| Russia, your one of the sons
|
| If you close your eyes, you won't wake up again.
|
| At the wounded birch in the spring,
|
| At the wounded birch in the spring ... |