Журавли [Zhuravli] [English translation]

Sometimes I feel like the soldiers

That have not returned from bloody battlefields,

Are not lying in the ground,

But have turned into white cranes.

Since those distant times and until our days

They have been flying and calling down upon us.

Isn't that why so often and with sadness

We go quiet looking up into the skies.

The tired flock is flying across the skies,

Flying through the mist at the brink of the day.

And there's a small gap in the order,

Perhaps that is my spot.

The day will come and with the flock of cranes

I will float away in the grey haze,

Calling down from under the skies

Upon you all who I have left behind on earth.

Sometimes I feel like the soldiers

That have not returned from bloody battlefields,

Are not lying in the ground,

But have turned into white cranes.

Since those distant times and until our days

They have been flying and calling down upon us.

Isn't that why so often and with sadness

We go quiet looking up into the skies.