Текст песни Военные песни - Попури на военные песни

Ah, the roads ... Dust and fog,
Cold, anxiety and steppe weeds ...
You can not know your share.
Maybe the wings fold in the middle of the steppes.

Through the mountains, rivers and valleys,
Through a blizzard, fire and black smoke
We drove cars,
Circling mines
On the paths of the front-line roads.

Oh, the path-front track!
We are not afraid of any bombing,
And it's too early to die -
We still have things to do at home.

At the position of the girl accompanied the fighter,
In the dark of night, they forgave the steps of the porch.
And while the fog could see the boy,
At the window on the girl all burned light.

Are you waiting, Lizaveta,
From a friend hello.
You do not sleep until dawn,
All the sad about me.
We will win
I'll come to you
On a hot warhorse.
We will win
I'll come to you
On a hot warhorse.

Blue little scarf
Fell from the lowered shoulders
You said you wouldn't forget
Affectionate joyful meetings
Sometimes night
We said goodbye to you
Dear welcome
No more night where are you a handkerchief
Dear welcome

Years flew by, battles died down.
You have fallen ill, your wounds have been washed away
But, to the great courage loyalty,
You are standing and silent at the holy fire.
You survived, soldier! At least a hundred times died
Though he buried friends and even stood to death.
from what you froze - in the heart palm
And in the eyes, as in the streams, reflected the fire?
They say that a soldier is not crying: he is a soldier
And that old wounds to bad weather hurt.
But yesterday was the sun! And the sun in the morning ...
Why are you crying, soldier, at the holy fire?
You survived, soldier! At least a hundred times died
Though he buried friends and even stood to death.
from what you froze - in the heart palm
And in the eyes, as in the streams, reflected the fire?