Текст песни Леонид Федоров - Мальчик из Москвы

JUDGE
I fell on the plowed land near the skyscraper
severe boy from Moscow;
and silently shifted the cap
with a bullet through his head.

Not looking at the starless dome
and feeling the end,
he carefully felt the arable land
hands fast blind.

And, leaving for another country
from places of relatives not far away,
he land is warm, damp
clamped in a stagnant hand.

A handful of conquered Russia
he wanted to take it as a souvenir,
and we were not able, alive,
those fingers of the dead unclench.

We buried him so -
in his military beauty -
in a large solemn grave
in the height taken in the morning.

And if the truth is time,
when people at the Last Judgment
from all lands, with sins of all,
three times the pipes will be called, -

appear at the table as a judge
not a god with a foggy beard,
but the Red Army boy
before the shocked crowd,

holding in his right palm,
crushed by the Germans in battle,
not symbols of heavenly glory,
but the Russian land.

He will see everything, this boy,
and will not forgive an iota,
but flattery from the truth, pain from falsehood
and anger from anger will distinguish.

He will know everything with a sharp eye,
with a bloody stain on his chest,
a judge in an exterminated tunic,
sitting silently in front.

And it will be the highest measure,
how to measure us could,
in the palm of youthful gray
that handful of heavy ground.

(text - Yaroslav Smelyakov)