Песенка о пехоте [Pesenka o pekhote] [English translation]

Forgive the foot soldiers,

For so illogical sometimes it is:

We get away always

When spring is rampaging all over the streets...

Our steps are unsteady,

The stairs are shaky, there’s no a chance…

And willows are bending

And looking, like sisters in white, after us.

Don’t faith in the weather,

When it’s pouring out the rains, so long,

And in the foot, either,

That’s loudly singing the bravado-song.

Don’t think all is peaceful,

When gardens are full of careless nightingales:

Between Life and Death still

Are many unfinished and fateful trades.

By time, we were prompted:

Live, like in a camp, with open doors…

Hey, man, our comrade,

How tempting is impatient duty of yours:

Be trim for the road,

But sleeplessness comes when you get to the thought:

Where do we go

When spring is rampaging all over the earth?

Why[do] off we go

When spring is rampaging all over the earth?

1961