The steppe, stitched with bullets, hugged me
|
And the burnt wormwood fed the horse
|
All Russia is trampled, tears flow like a river,
|
This is the birthplace of childhood, I don't need another
|
Our summer is the last, we won't see each other again,
|
I bow low to the earth, I bow to churches
|
Everything here will be desecrated, that Russia is no more
|
And like rock, our last dawn is approaching
|
So farewell, colonel, goodbye, cornet!
|
I will meet this dawn with the faithful soldiers
|
We will take out the checkers naked for our last fight,
|
Eh, my Russian land, I say goodbye to you
|
In the morning both meadows and feather grass will be stained with blood,
|
The roadside dust will become pink and scarlet
|
Without crosses, without priests, they will leave us to lie,
|
There will be Russian winds to celebrate a memorial service
|
The steppe is chopped down by sabers, they will bury me
|
The winds from the Don are free, take your horse!
|
Let him walk around the steppe, not getting to the enemies,
|
He was a devoted friend to me - I will not betray my friends!
|
Let him walk around the steppe, not getting to the enemies,
|
He was a devoted friend to me - I will not betray my friends!
|
I won't betray my friends, I won't betray my friends. |