Текст песни Роберт Рождественский - Баллада о Крассках

He was red,
         as from the red stew.
Red,
   like oranges in the snow.
Mother joked,
        mother was cheerful:
"I gave birth to a son from the sun ..."
And the other was black-black at her.
Black,
    like a charred resin.
She laughed at the questions,
said:
"Too night was black! .."
In the forty-first,
      in the forty-year memorable year
the loudspeakers shouted to trouble.
Both sons, two-two, the salt of the Earth-
they bowed to their mother in the waistband.
And they left.
It was possible to feel in a fight young
red furious fire
               and black smoke,
the evil green of the stagnant fields,
gray color of front-line hospitals.
Both sons, two, two, two wings,
fought to victory.
Mother waited.
She did not anger,
   she did not cursure fate.
Burial ground
went around her hut.
Lucky for her.
     Happiness suddenly came.
Lucky one to three villages around.
Lucky for her.
      Lucky for her!
              Lucky! -
Both sons
returned to the village.
Both sons.
     Both are two.
          Flesh and become.
You can not count the Golden Orders.
Sons sit in a row - shoulder to shoulder.
The legs are intact, the hands are intact - what else?
They drink green wine, as it was ...
Both have changed their hair color.
Steel hair -
     deadly whiteness!
It can be seen that a lot
white paint
in the war.