Солдат на привале [Soldat na privale] [English translation]

Hammer-and-sickle sent to the summit,

Early rays in an empty brain breeds sadness.

The megaphone shouts through the birch

As Uzbeks, or Latvians united by Russia.

Arising from the ashes of drunkards,

Uncouth scrapes of blood bludgeoned together,

But when a soldier halts there is no problem,

So long as he's in a sauna with a woman

He's a politically savvy peasant,

Who grows horseradish in his village for the nation,

To feed the collective's ducks and hogs,

And fellow brethren who did not help the virgin land.

Leaders fly to America,

To rid the Earth of weapons.

But when a soldier halts, he does not care,

So long as his sergeant is mauled by a bear.

Green forests, blue sky, ah, the red flag!

The heart black in the chest,

The battle rages on,

It's time for the army to leave camp.

No, we'll never find out where to lead the army to,

The bones of our adversaries is just snow beneath our boots,

The soldier tormented with grief,

He shot himself and is nothing more to us...