This is not a place for shy and weak,
And strong are numbered
Struggling and slipping off-road
Small army truck.
Round and round, the usual routine
The circle of war has no end ...
Behind the wheel is a young girl,
But she doesn't know yet:
The month of May'45 is coming,
And she'll be coming home,
And her mom, at the porch,
Will clasp her hands so soon,
And it'll tingle in the heart,
And it'll be a lump in the throat,
And the joy will flood eyes with tears,
Welcome, welcome home!
Traffic signs of the crammed roads -
Tver-Chisinau-Bucharest...
But over the quelder rose is still hovering
Duralumin swastikas' cross
Under that cross, like in circles of hell,
Loosing her girlfriends and friends,
She didn't go for awards,
But just to break this loop.
To bring the month of May,
And to make her way home,
And see her mom, at the porch,
As she will clasp her hands,
And it'll tingle in the heart,
And it'll be a lump in the throat,
And the joy will flood eyes with tears,
Welcome, welcome home!
The Victory salute, the radiant faces,
Childly exited looks
You made it to this victory,
A military driver-girl.
And it'll be the month of May,
And it'll be way to home,
And she'll see her mom, at the porch,
As she will clasp her hands,
And it'll tingle in the heart,
And it'll be a lump in the throat,
And the joy will flood eyes with tears,
Welcome, welcome home!