Lyrics Сергей Миронов - Май 45-го

The sun and the smell of white acacia
May 45th we are all in prostration,
Life with a feeling of easy guilt.
The light of rebirth, sadness, admiration,
Joy and tears, moment of all forgiveness,
As if this damned war was not there.

Bright dresses, uniforms with shoulder straps.
The brilliance of orders, the sounds of the waltz are familiar,
Life is in the promise of eternal spring.
The tunes are old, spinning in pairs
Do not spare the harmonist fingers tired,
People from May happiness and the sun are drunk.

Verse 2:
The sun and shoulders, wind and hair.
Time is tiredly divided into bands
We have survived the curse of dark trouble.
Let everything be forgotten will be only bright,
"Victory!" - this is our cherished word.
We will revive the cities and plant gardens.

May 45th we are all in prostration,
We are intoxicated by the smell of acacia,
As if this damned war was not there.
Victory salute, a moment of purification,
Chest overwhelmed with delight of inspiration
Life under the rays of a happy star.

Verse 3:
May 45th we are all in prostration,
We are intoxicated by the smell of acacia,
As if this damned war was not there.
Victory salute, a moment of purification,
Chest overwhelmed with delight of inspiration
Life under the rays of a happy star.