| All the same people in the streets
|
| All the same rain outside the window,
|
| And your plane will not arrive at a small airfield
|
| A candle on the table by the portrait and a glass covered with bread,
|
| War has its signs, but time will not heal wounds.
|
| They are silent, after the third toast they close their eyes, friends,
|
| And it's not easy to get used to pain, you can't get used to losses,
|
| Fog over the runway and fog in life, and around,
|
| And the sky is crossed out with a machine-gun line immediately and suddenly.
|
| Officers' wives, Officers' wives
|
| You are burned by a difficult fate,
|
| God give you hope and love and faith
|
| Officers' wives need them so much.
|
| Salutes, parades, awards,
|
| Roads, halts, fights,
|
| And someone in a wet tent will write a love letter,
|
| And in the morning, squinting from the sun into an attack, he will raise the line
|
| Hurry, hurry, please come home alive
|
| Officers' wives, Officers' wives
|
| You are burned by a difficult fate,
|
| God give you hope and love and faith
|
| Officers' wives need them so much.
|
| Officers' wives, Officers' wives
|
| You are burned by a difficult fate,
|
| God give you hope and love and faith
|
| Officers' wives need them so much.
|
| God give you hope and love and faith
|
| Officers' wives need them so much
|
| Officers' wives need them so much. |