It whistled and fell on a table
Ate a few and rolled on ashes
Of killed songs, I don't have anything to lose there
The world is so small, brother, I wish huge you
All around us devils are, brother drive faster,
There is one hour before death, I don't pity burnt things
Angels and cornfoers are in a field
We are free and there isn't neither ash nor sadness
Sasha and Ilya will meet in the sky
There is enough of bread, they'll drink 100 grammes of vodka, it can't be without it
What's for we have to cry? It's not a shame, what's for we have to suffer?
Paradise isn't slush, winter storm it's our joy
We'll talk about everything, about dawn and about sunset
About rocks of ash and about bitter friut jellies
What we ate when won that war
And that we were in captivity in Motherland