| Enemies burned their home
|
| Enemies burned their own hut,
|
| They killed his entire family.
|
| Where should the soldier go now,
|
| To whom to bear their sorrow?
|
| A soldier went in deep sorrow
|
| At the crossroads of two roads,
|
| Found a soldier in a wide field
|
| Grass overgrown hillock.
|
| There is a soldier - and like clods
|
| Got stuck in his throat.
|
| The soldier said: "Meet, Praskovya,
|
| Hero-husband.
|
| Prepare a meal for the guest
|
| Lay a wide table in the hut, -
|
| Your day, your holiday of return
|
| I came to you to celebrate ... "
|
| Nobody answered the soldier
|
| Nobody met him
|
| And only a warm summer wind
|
| I shook the grave grass.
|
| The soldier sighed, adjusted the belt,
|
| He opened his travel bag,
|
| I put a bitter bottle
|
| On the gray gravestone.
|
| "Don't judge me, Praskovya,
|
| That I came to you like this:
|
| I wanted to drink to health
|
| And I must drink for peace.
|
| Friends will meet again, girlfriends,
|
| But we will not converge forever ... "
|
| And the soldier drank from a copper mug
|
| Wine with sadness in half.
|
| He drank - a soldier, a servant of the people,
|
| And with pain in his heart he said:
|
| “I went to you for four years,
|
| I conquered three powers ... "
|
| The soldier was tipsy, a tear rolled down,
|
| Tears of unfulfilled hopes
|
| And on his chest shone
|
| Medal for the city of Budapest. |