Afghanistan, Chechnya and Dagestan, and earlier - Karabakh.
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He knew how to fight everywhere - in the valleys and in the mountains.
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Everyone knew him: a merry fellow with a scar on his cheek,
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To the holes, the erased machine gun stuck to his hand.
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He knew how to never be bored,
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He even wanted to tame death,
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And when he went to battle,
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An angel sang over his head:
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"Soldier, soldier, come home!
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Soldier, soldier, come back alive!
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Don't need money, don't need awards -
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You just come back home, soldier!
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Soldier… soldier…”
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Healthy as a tank - I'm not kidding, I squeezed one hundred and twenty!
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If he patted on the shoulder, he almost broke a bone.
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Yes, only the bullet doesn’t care: healthy or frail,
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She has been flying after him for a long time, but she will not find him in any way.
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He knew how to never be bored,
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He even wanted to tame death,
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And when he went to battle,
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An angel sang over his head:
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"Soldier, soldier, come home!
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Soldier, soldier, come back alive!
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Don't need money, don't need awards -
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You just come back home, soldier!
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Soldier…"
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I remember that scorching heat, the command: "Airboard, take off!"
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How he waved his hand to everyone and moved into the plane,
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As I looked back, looked for only one second,
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Said, "Bye!" |
and flew off to some kind of war...
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Today, seeing off again, and everyone is drinking bitter...
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Today they say toasts that maybe they won't kill...
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And somewhere there is smoke, and somewhere there is blood, and somewhere there is another fight...
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Let's drink, boys, so that he comes alive.
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He knew how to never be bored,
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He even wanted to tame death,
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And when he went to battle,
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An angel sang over his head:
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"Soldier, soldier, come home!
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Soldier, soldier, come back alive!
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Don't need money, don't need awards -
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You just come back home, soldier!
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Soldier... soldier...
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Soldier… soldier…” |