Whistled by and dropped down on the table,
Ate a little, then rolled over the ash
Of murdered songs, there I have nothing to lose,
The world is small, brother, let me hug you.
Devils everywhere. Brother, step on the gas.
One hour before death, and no regrets about all that burned
In the meadow, cornflower angels.
And we are free, there’s no heat or sorrow.
And on that side, we’ll be greeted by Sashka and Ilya,
Plenty of bread, and a shot - that’s a must.
Why should we cry, this isn’t bad, why suffer,
Heaven isn’t slush, blizzard is our bliss.
We’ll tell it all, of dawn and dusk,
Of mountains of soot, and of bitter sweets
We ate up when we ended the war,
And how we got captured in Motherland.