Журавли [Zhuravli] [English translation]

Sometimes it seems to me that every soldier

Who on the bloody field of war was slain

In common grave with brothers does not molder

But has been changed into a snow white crane.

So they from distant times until the present

Bestow on us their voices flying by

Is it for this we often, growing silent,

Gaze melancholy up into the sky?

Flies and flies this tired wedge high soaring,

Flies as shadows make the daylight flee.

A gap in the formation wants restoring.

Perhaps this is a place reserved for me!

A day will come when I with cranes departing

In such a blue grey mist fly in rebirth

From heaven as a bird my cry imparting

To all of you I left upon the earth.

Sometimes it seems to me that every soldier

Who on the bloody field of war was slain

In common grave with brothers does not molder

But has been changed into a snow white crane

• Artist:Mark Bernes