Forgive infantry that sometimes unmindful,
without breath.
We’re always marching, when spring is rummaging over
whole earth.
How long it could be? Barrens, quagmires, and mud
and sand
And pale willows like pale sisters bid you farewell.
(bis)
Don’t believe weather, when three days rain starts
between trees.
Don’t believe infantry, when there is anger and courage
in song.
Don’t believe, don’t believe, when orchards are full
of birds’ songs.
You don’t know yet if someone dies or has to survive.
(bis)
My motherland, you taught us to learn to live and
hear your voice.
Comrade man, it is not bad, this destiny you have.
We always were marching and it is only one thing
to wake us up.
Why always we’re marching when spring is rummaging
above earth?
Why always retreating when spring is rummaging above
earth? (bis) |
