1
We have laid down at the broken fur-tree.
We wait, when will start to brighten.
Under an overcoat is together warmer
On продрогшей, the rotten earth.

- You know, Julka, I - against grief,
But today it isn't counted.
Houses, in an apple remote place,
Mum, мамка washing lives.
You have the friends, favourite,
At me - only it one.
Smells in a hut квашней and a smoke,
Behind a threshold the spring rages.

Old it seems: each bush
Uneasy daughter waits…
You know, Julka, I - against grief,
But today it isn't counted.

We have got warm hardly.
Suddenly the order: "to Act forward! "
Again nearby, in crude overcoats
The svetlokosyj soldier goes.

2
Every day became горше.
Went without meetings and banners.
In окруженье has got under Orshej
Our shabby battalion.

Зинка us has moved in attack.
We have made the way on a black rye,
On funnels and буеракам
Through mortal boundaries.

We didn't wait posthumous slavy. -
We wanted to live with glory.
… Why in bandage bloody
The svetlokosyj soldier lies?

Its body of the an overcoat
I covered, teeth having compressed…
The Belarus winds sang
About the Ryazan deaf gardens.

- You know, Zinka, I against grief,
But today it isn't counted.
Somewhere, in an apple remote place,
Mum, мамка yours lives.

I have the friends, favourite,
At it you were one.
Smells in a hut квашней and a smoke,
Behind a threshold there is a spring.

And the old woman in цветастом a dress
At an icon a candle has lit.
… I don't know how to write to it,
That she didn't wait for you.