Гранатовый Сок [Granatoviy sok] [English translation]

We're from death and glory

On the verge

The echo of battle is knocking at the right

Well here, now and in the left temple

It suddenly appears and beckons

In the new eyes

And probably won't become soon

Yeah, this is my first fear.

The fire flickers

On the torn lips

Naked sparks is contacting with

Palm of the cold hands

The last breath of

Love in war

The fragments of grenades, losing soldiers

Pomegranate juice

Prediction in advance

Loyal news

Time is again spliting into two things that

There was, and is.

Dry drops sadly smolders

Ashes in the eyes

And weaker and weaker

My final fear

The fire flickers

On the torn lips

Naked sparks is contacting with

Palm of the cold hands

The last breath of

Love in war

The fragments of grenades, losing soldiers

Pomegranate juice