2024.05.15.
Igor Rasteryaev - Георгиевская ленточка (Georgyevskaya lentotshka) dalszöveg fordítás angol nyelvre
English
St. George's ribbon
Outside the windows the spring forest flies,I'm riding in the Leningrad electric train,
A girl sits in front of me
With a St. George's ribbon in a braid.
Wear this ribbon today
On the bag you can, you can - in the form of a brooch,
But I remember perfectly well without ribbons,
How the grandmother did not throw out the crumbs.
How much superfluous we hear in the days of victories
But only this chrism with blarney,
Those who ate mainly wood glue in ten years old
Do not really believe.
And time multiplies everything by zero
Changes generation to generation,
And here is the treated pain of war
Comes only in spring exacerbation.
Over this pain, many are circling
Like a crows, like a seagulls... And so happy,
As if they want to snatch their piece
Of concrete-heroic blockade.
I'm on the train, I look at everything
Out the window, on a girl with beautiful eyes
And outside the window the soldiers lie
And sprout with new forests...
I pass ominous places,
Where a human is the main wealth of the subsoil,
Where else from the war the fighters lie,
Three person by square meter.
There are steps everywhere, there are voices
Wonderful lights in the swamps,
Shadows sing to you at night
As if asking and wanting something:
'Dig me out, brother, I'm Sanya* Vershinin
Fifth mortar regiment, I myself am from Ryazan
You saw a lot versions of soldiers in the movies,
Now listen to mine, oh, it will be more interesting'.
And they will begin to speak
In the language of groans and omissions.
Want to run away but ahead
They flicker again between the pine-trees.
'Dig me out quickly, I beg you again,
I'm Sergey Morshannikov, originally from Pskov.
Give my address to my native land,
Eighteenth square, black funnel'.
And in the morning everything will roar, fly somewhere
And trample on a machine gun in a bayonet with a swearing,
And the trees are all upside down: the roots grow up upward,
In this glorious war crime scene...
A wonderful place, not a forest, but a fairy tale,
Stepped on a hillock, look, and this is a helmet,
I dug a little - and here you are: a pot and a spoon,
And above this, above everything - cloudberry bushes.
Above the earth the month of May, beautiful and young,
The train approaches the 'Apraksin' station,
In the sky a caravan of geese, soon it will be summer,
Girl in her braid straightens the ribbon.
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