Журавли [Zhuravli] [English translation]

Sometimes I dream that every fallen soldier

Who on blood-soaked battlefield remained

Did not end up a piece of cannon fodder

But turned into a beautiful white crane

'Till present day they soar high above us

Mournfully making their solemn call

Perhaps that's why, with quiet sadness

Gazing at them makes silence fall

The tired flock flies in a wedge formation

Into the fog, as day and night become the same

I see a tiny gap, despite the elevation

Maybe this is a place that I can claim

One future day, as a majestic crane

In bluish haze across the sky I'll glide

My somber bird calls will not be in vain

They will find those who were left behind

Sometimes I dream that every fallen soldier

Who on blood-soaked battlefield remained

Did not end up a piece of cannon fodder

But turned into a beautiful white crane