It whistled by and hit the table,
Bit out a chunk, and rolled down into the ashes,
Of killed songs, I have nothing to lose there,
The world is so small. Let me embrace you, brother.
Devils all around - come on, brother, press the pedal,
An hour until death - no pity for those burned,
In the clear fields are cherubs and cornflowers,
And we are free, no pain and no anguish.
In the sky we'll be greeted by Sashka and Ilya,
There'll be enough bread and 100 grams of vodka - it's impossible without those,
What would we cry for? Here there's no shame or suffering,
Heaven isn't slush - the blizzard is our paradise.
We'll talk about everything, from the sunrise to the sunset,
Mountains of soot and about the bitter marmalade,
That we'll eat when the war ends,
And how we sat in the Motherland, captive.