| My city is very young.
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| Washed with Volkhov water,
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| He looks into this world trustingly and wisely.
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| He is the fruit of my working hands,
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| And he is my best friend
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| It looks like it's like a sunny morning.
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| And you think and decide, and you think and decide
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| And maybe you will come to Kirishi.
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| And you think and decide, then write me a letter,
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| That you will come to Kirishi forever.
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| There used to be a war here.
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| We remember the names of the fallen
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| They are the glory of our days, and the conscience of the century.
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| Years have passed, and my city,
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| As before, at the forefront.
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| Here, a peaceful battle is for the benefit of man.
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| And you think and decide, and you think and decide
|
| And maybe you will come to Kirishi.
|
| And you think and decide, then write me a letter,
|
| That you will come to Kirishi forever.
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| The workshops of factories have risen,
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| Bogatyrs came to life.
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| The power station above the Volkhov is like a fairy tale.
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| And in an atmosphere of kindness
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| Children and flowers grow here,
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| They equally need warmth and affection.
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| And you think and decide, and you think and decide
|
| And maybe you will come to Kirishi.
|
| And you think and decide, then write me a letter,
|
| That you will come to Kirishi forever.
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| Beautiful houses lined up
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| Street lights are burning
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| And I'll build new prospectuses.
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| Let Leningrad be proud
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| His younger brother is worthy
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| And inspiration, and work, and beauty.
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| And you think and decide, and you think and decide
|
| And maybe you will come to Kirishi.
|
| And you think and decide, then write me a letter,
|
| That you will come to Kirishi forever. |