The sunset burned out in a wild field,
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Hordes of crows scattered into the night!
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Foxes and wolves tore the dead,
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The revelation of life is buried by war.
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They would rise from the ground,
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Yes, wash yourself with dew!
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without touching the grass,
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Yes, to fly home!
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Good cross in Russia to all soldiers,
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Oh, yes, they should not grieve to live,
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But they left along the untrodden path,
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Oh, yes, just to be free.
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Those are not servants - the grandchildren of God,
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Light illuminates their shield and sword.
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They fought to the death not for glory,
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And for truth, and for honor!
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The dawn blazed in the wild field,
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People's rumors spread all over the world!
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They will compose a song about fate and share,
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The revelation of life will exalt war
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They would rise from the ground,
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Yes, wash yourself with dew!
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without touching the grass,
|
Yes, to fly home!
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Good cross in Russia to all soldiers,
|
Oh, yes, they should not grieve to live,
|
But they left along the untrodden path,
|
Oh, yes, just to be free.
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Those are not servants - the grandchildren of God,
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Light illuminates their shield and sword.
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They fought to the death not for glory,
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And for truth, and for honor!
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Why wormwood-grass is bitter,
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Why does dew look like a tear,
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They only know the sky, but the earth is damp ...
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Summer and century will become a fairy tale,
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For years and centuries, feather grass spreads,
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In a wild field, wind and steppe dust. |