Журавли [Zhuravli] [English translation]

I sometimes have a feeling that those soldiers,

Who failed to come back from the bloodied plains,

Not in the earth were laid amid the boulders,

Instead, were turned into the white winged cranes.

Until this day and from the early ages

They fly so high, so we could hear their cries.

Is this a reason, why we're often pausing,

And stare in silence, sadly at the skies?

And so, they soar, soar in V-formations,

Their flight is heavy through the evening mist.

In this line-up there is a gap position,

Perhaps, a place they have reserved for me.

The day will come and with this soaring crowd,

I'll fly along inside the same gray haze,

From high above my creaking calls will sound,

To all of you, whom I've left on earth.

I sometimes have a feeling that those soldiers,

Who failed to come back from the bloodied plains,

Not in the earth were laid amid the boulders,

Instead, were turned into the white winged cranes.