I was colorless,
Was spotlessly clean,
Was transparent,
But I became perfectly white.
It seems someone decided that it's winter,
And covered me with chalk.
I would be white
But at least I would be clean,
Even if I would be a cold thing
But at least with the clear glance,
But someone decided that it's war,
And covered me with black paint.
I see the color
But I haven't been here,
I hear the color, I feel the color,
I don't want to know all those
Who already dye the sky.
I see a song in the distance
But I only hear:
"March, march left,
March, march right"
I haven't seen people more terrible
Than those dressed in khaki.
I would be black,
Well, even if I would be the devil itself,
But some chief,
Who always initiates attacks,
Has ordered an attack on the summer,
And trampled me in khaki.
I see the smoke
Where I haven't been,
I sense the smell of burning,
I don't want to know that scoundrel
Who will burn down this sky,
Don't touch the sky! (hands off the sky)
I don't want to know those
Who sing the song :
"March, march left
March, march right".
I have never seen a picture more foolish
Than the globe of khaki color.
March, march left
March, march right