Текст песни Дезертиры - Финская песня

We are like an ancient, magical people,
What merges with the stone and moss ...
There, to the left, one more pillbox.
On the right, the bay breathes a breath.

Rise again to us
Turned into a dark bastard,
To lie on a sparkling nast
Under the rolling shot gay.

Who is guilty of having meat
These masses in the overcoats of the faded?
Someone's will in their back from the darkness
Like a crimson pentacle, she drove.

And behind us - a forest mahr,
The winter air is more magical than a catfish,
There is freedom, land, farm,
There in the lakes and firs of Suomi.

He is burning with anger in his eyes.
They rob the trunks of frost.
On lacustrine forest shores
There will not be camps and collective farms.

Crossfire on the enemies
They erase the underground depths.
Twisted scoops in half
Machine-gun fire chopping.

And why did the red one get there,
Are we carrying Bolshevik happiness?
This tears their angry forest,
This ice shreds them to pieces.

It's death. Not one of them left
From the fire of merciless pillbox.
The snow breaks from the coniferous peaks.
The dead company is powdered.

Here it is, next to it - a cold ball,
And in the eyes - indifference.
I did not call you to visit, scoop.
I did not call. The rest is details.

The author of poems Alexei Shiropaev