| We rode at a pace, we raced in battles,
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| And the "Apple" song was kept in their teeth.
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| And this song is still kept by Gm Young grass, steppe malachite.
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| But a different song about a distant land
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| My friend drove with him in the saddle.
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| He sang, looking around his native land:
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| Grenada, Grenada, my Grenada.
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| He recited this song by heart.
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| Where does the guy get Spanish sadness.
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| Answer Aleksandrovsk, and answer Kharkov -
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| How long ago did we start singing in Spanish?
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| I left the hut, went to fight,
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| To give the land in Grenada to the peasants.
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| Goodbye family, goodbye friends
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| Grenada, Grenada, my Grenada.
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| We rushed, dreaming to comprehend as soon as possible
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| Combat grammar, battery language
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| Sunrise rose and fell again,
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| And the horse was tired of galloping across the steppes.
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| But the squadron played the bull's-eye song
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| Bows of suffering on the violins of time.
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| Where is your friend, your song -
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| Grenada, Grenada, my Grenada?
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| The pierced body slid to the ground.
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| The comrade left the saddle for the first time
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| I saw the moon bent over the corpse
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| And dead lips whispered to Gren...
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| Yes, to a distant region, sky-high reach
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| My friend left and took away the song
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| Since then, native lands have not been heard
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| Grenada, Grenada, my Grenada.
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| The detachment did not notice the loss of a fighter,
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| And the apple sang the song to the end,
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| Only slowly slipped across the sky later
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| On the velvet of sunset, a teardrop of rain.
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| New songs came up with life
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| No need, comrade, to grieve about the song.
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| Don't, don't, don't, friends.
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| Grenada, Grenada, my Grenada. |