Дым [Dym] [English translation]

Smoke falls upon the sun in ill cloud,

The black blocked mountains of silver.

I pass by sideways, dead and alive,

Straining for a moot road towards good.

Slowly, heavily, we smoke and talk,

Cherishing this this subtle time before morning.

Life grumbles and toils, sinks and wheezes,

Anxious dawn crawled upon the summits,

The silence will break, scream loudly,

I think that the first bullet is not mine.

Time will not repent, memory will stay silent,

Obedient life keeps flowing, but not mine.

Tongues of fire talk to wind,

Distant motherland, whom you mingle with.

A nurse will treat with victory and alcohol,

Shallow loyalty, birch-bark dreams,

Mountains and snipers will dine on death,

Death is easy work - for this beauty.

Downed dawn rises and falls,

Sunset, gone missing, waits behind the line.

Honestly, I'm tired to death

Carrying this gun in the autumn.

Maybe I'm misplaced, it's ok, it's not for nothing,

As the war ends, will be home, brother.