Журавли [Zhuravli] [English translation]

I believe there are at times, those soldiers,

Who never came back from those bloody battlefields,

No longer do they lie upon the ground where they once fell,

For now they have become white cranes.

They are now, to this day ever distant,

They soar in the skies and with their call.

Is that not why that it is so frequent and sad

We stand silent, while looking up to the sky?

Fly on, glide on through the heavens in that weary vee.

Flying into a haze at the day's end.

And in that line there is a small gap -

Perhaps this is the space for me.

That day will come when that flock of cranes

I will sail on with the cranes, into that same blue-grey mist,

Out of the heavens along with the calls of birds

To all of you, left there upon the ground.

I believe there are at times, those soldiers,

Who never came back from those bloody battlefields,

No longer do they lie upon the ground where they once fell,

And so now they have become white cranes.