Lyrics Александр Твардовский - По дороге на Берлин

BY ROAD TO BERLIN
On the way to Berlin
Curly gray down feathers curls.
Wires of silent lines
Branches soaked linden
The feathers of a feather-bed fell like frost,
On the sides of cars stuck.
And the wheels of guns, kitchens
Dirt and snow interfere with down.
And lays on his greatcoat
Wet snowstorm with fluff ...
The boring climate is foreign
The foreign land is red brick,
But the war itself
And the earth trembles habitually
Tile crushed stone
Shaking off the roofs ...
Mother Russia, we are half the world
Your wheels are gone
Behind leaving somewhere
Your rivers are an open reach.
For a long, long time behind the train
Alien stretched after the edge
The white color of your birch
And on the way came to naught.
With the Volga, with ancient Moscow
How far you are today!
Between us and you
Three are not our languages.
Late day does not rise Russian
Over the sweet side.
Crushed crushed stone
It gets wet in a puddle under the wall.
Everywhere there are inscriptions, marks,
Arrows, signs, badges,
Wire mesh rings,
Fences, doors, cages -
All on purpose for longing ...
Mother Earth is our dear,
In the days of trouble and in the days of victories
No you are brighter and more beautiful
And there is no cherished heart.
Thinking of a soldier
Unforeseen fate
Even lie in the brotherly grave
Better seems to be in you.
And just a mile to the house,
Reach you alive
Appear in those parts:
- Hello, my homeland!
Your warrior, servant of the people,
With honor, he can report:
He fought for four years,
Came back from a hike
And now he wants to live.
He performed a duty for glory
Your battle banners.
Who else has the right
So love you like him!
Changing day and night in battles,
In the month of the caps without taking off,
Your warrior, protector-son,
He walked in a hurry to you, dear,
On the way to Berlin ...
On the road uninviting
Down feather feathers swirling in a cloud.
Cities of burnt scrap
It smells like a scorched feather.
And to the roar of the cannonade
To the east, from haze and stench,
Like from the gates of hell
Along the highway people flow.
Shocked, singed
Of all blood, diverse
Bitter, pack, foot people ...
To the east - one route.
To the east, through smoke and soot,
From one prison deaf
Europe goes home.
Down feathers over her snowstorm.
And on a Russian soldier
Brother French, British brother,
Brother Pole and everything
With friendship as if guilty
But they look cordially.
At an unknown intersection
For some oncoming moment -
Themselves are drawn to the hairstyle
Hands of dumb girls.
And from those speeches, smiles
The soldier fills himself with paint:
Here is Europe, and thanks
Everyone speaks Russian.
He stands, the liberator,
A side hat with a star.
I supposedly help amateur,
I'm about that simple.
Like, such a service is ours,
Other flags are not reproached ...
- Hey, where are you going, mother?
- And there, - home, son.
In a stranger, far away,
In a motley bunch of people
Suddenly the words of a birthmark speech,
Grandma in a fur coat, with a staff.
Old age like, but not decrepitude
In that kitty harnessed.
Criss-cross
The whole scarf is braided.
Say hello and get up
A fellow countryman to match
Rustic, simple
Our mother is a hard worker.
Mother of holy eternal power
Of unknown mothers,
What is not worn out in labor
And in any trouble of his own;
What a fate repeated
On earth a hundred times in a row
And they grow in sleepless love,
And they lose us, soldier;
And they live, and they’re not folding their hands,
Do not close your eyes
If you need more, maybe
Grandchildren instead of sons.
Mother alone in a foreign land somewhere!
- Is it far to the yard?
- To the yard? There’s no court,
And itself because of the Dnieper ...
Wait guys no good
To that way with the staff
Walked home from abroad
Mother of soldiers on foot.
No, dear, in order
Let us do, do not bother.
First things first horse
Get it with a full harness.
Get the gear
Cover your feet with a rug.
And to you a cow
Together with the dowry of a sheep.
On the way-road kettle with a mug
Yes, a bucket in reserve,
Yes perinku, yes for