The songs of our regiment were noisy,
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Ringing hooves rang out.
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Bullets pierced the bottom of the pot,
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The young marketer was killed.
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Bullets pierced the bottom of the pot,
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The young marketer was killed.
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There are few of us left - we are our pain.
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There are few of us and few enemies.
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We are still alive, front-line goal,
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And we will perish - a heavenly road.
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We are still alive, front-line goal,
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And we will perish - a heavenly road.
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Hands on the shutter, head in anguish,
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And the soul has already taken off like.
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Why do we write with blood on the sand?
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Our letters are not needed by nature.
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Why do we write with blood on the sand?
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Our letters are not needed by nature.
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At the grave of the fraternal sad posts -
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Eternal apartments in the woods.
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They don't hurt now, and their hearts are pure,
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And the eyes are wide open like a child.
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They don't hurt now, and their hearts are pure,
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And the eyes are wide open like a child.
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Sleep to yourself, brothers, everything will come again.
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New commanders will be born.
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New soldiers will receive
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Eternal government apartments.
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New soldiers will receive
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Eternal government apartments.
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Sleep to yourself, brothers, everything will start again,
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Everything must be repeated in nature -
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And words, and bullets, and love, and blood...
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There will be no time to reconcile.
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And words, and bullets, and love, and blood...
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There will be no time to reconcile.
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old sutler imitation of Bulat Okudzhva
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Limerick Non-Limerick
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marching songs of our regiment
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now undeservedly forgotten.
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... bullets pierced the bottom of the pot,
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the young scribbler was killed...
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(Old soldier song © Bulat Okudzhava)
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Where the buckshot whistles, where the sabers groan -
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My love is always missing!
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And I'm afraid one day it will disappear completely -
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Even loud hooves will not save.
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And I'm afraid one day it won't come to me -
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Because he will be killed ...
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If only once I stayed to guard the camp -
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He says that there is little honor in this,
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That in battle you can only get glory! ..
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I'm tired of being afraid for him...
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Chest in crosses and wounds, nowhere to put "yat"!
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Why do I need this glory?
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I know that I am brave, I know that I am a hero -
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They love not for this, you know!
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But in a dashing attack, my brave warrior -
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You seem to be forgetting about me...
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And in hot battle, my dear hero,
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You forget about everything in the world...
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There are few of you left, less than half a regiment,
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The uniforms are covered in red blood!
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But the enemies are defeated, the war is over,
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And your commanders are happy...
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Medals are waiting for you, orders are waiting,
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Commanders are waiting for ranks and ranks...
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Your last fight ended in victory,
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Silence rings in the white world.
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The one who is alive will return to his camping house,
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But he won't meet me there...
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You stayed alive and came home -
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But you didn't meet me there!
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The enemy attacked the camp - apparently, he went around,
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Who knew that this could happen...
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The entire convoy was looted, no one left,
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Only our tent is still smoking...
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Who was killed, who was wounded, who was captured,
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The ashes are still smoking...
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It's a pity there will be no more songs by the fire,
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The thirst for glory is instantly forgotten!
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A bullet pierced the bottom of the pot,
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The young sutler was killed...
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You will never cook porridge in it,
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And your loved one was killed... |