The last century of terrible wars and massacres has died down.
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A man got up from his knees, the world sighed with him.
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The earth warmed up, but forgetting the bitter smoke,
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Leaving the battlefield, her son became weak.
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The blood has dried up in the puddles, and the house is full of food.
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Mothers began to live again with the hope that
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That the country will rise, but the feast was short-lived,
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The war wanted to visit this world.
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Wait for me, I'll be back, mother bless,
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Drive away sadness from your heart, but keep your relatives, -
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So the fathers said goodbye, getting ready for a campaign.
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And today, my son, the country is calling us:
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Through the century we have lost ourselves,
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Becoming slaves of fate, they calmed down in vain,
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They threw down their swords, grew a belly,
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We all spit and keep silent for food and comfort.
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But trouble happens, you won’t find a person.
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What should we do when the eyelid turns into blood?
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Only weakness and laziness will not save this world.
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For the sake of our children, let us stop the idle feast.
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Wait for me, I'll be back, mother bless,
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Drive away sadness from your heart, but keep your relatives, -
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So the fathers said goodbye, getting ready for a campaign.
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And today, my son, calls to the country:
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Don't give up, don't cry
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My dear:
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Let the executioner laugh
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Do not tremble Russia!
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Who will come to us with a sword -
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He will die from him!
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Rise up people
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The country is calling us!
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