I dream to come back from the war
On which I was born and grew up,
On ruins of a poor country
Under rains of tears.
But the tyrant isn't committed to the earth,
Declared the war to the country
And the end and edge are invisible
To this war.
I am not beginning to predict
But I know for sure that I will come back
Not to the country of fools but geniuses.
Let it be even in hundred centuries.
And defeated in a battle
I will revive and will sing
On the first birthday of the country
Returned from the war.
And when fights calm down,
On a halt, not in a formation
I compose and sing about the world and love,
The enemies sigh with relive
And friends speak: "You got tired..."
Both are mistaken:
It is a halt.
Halt.
Tomorrow I will go again to a battle
But I know for sure that I will come back
Not to the country of fools but geniuses.
Let it be even in hundred centuries.
And defeated in a battle
I will revive and will sing
On the first birthday of the country
Returned from the war.
From the war I will come back...
I will come back...