Текст песни Ю.Шевчук - Трансваль, Трансваль, страна моя...

Transval, Transval, my country
You're all on fire
Under the tree branchy
Thoughtfully the drill sat

What are you grieving about, old man?
Why are you pensive?
I grieve for my country
And I feel sorry for my native land

I have ten sons of all
Three are already dead
And they are fighting for freedom
Seven young others

And the eldest son, the old man is white
Was killed in the war
He without prayer, without a cross
Buried in a foreign land

And the youngest son, thirteen years old
Wrote for war
I decided firmly - no and no,
Baby I will not take

But he answered with a frown:
"Father, I'll go too."
Let me be weak, let me be small -
My hand is true "

Yes, the hour has come, the hard hour
For my homeland.
Pray for women for us,
For your sons