Lyrics Герман Орлов - Застольная военных корреспондентов

Music: M. Blanter Lyrics: K. Simonov

From Moscow to Brest
There is no place
Wherever we roam in the dust:
With & quot; watering can & quot; and notepad -
And even with a machine gun -
Through the fire and cold we passed & # 33;

Without a sip, comrade
You won’t make a song
So come on a little breadcake & # 33;
Let's drink for the writers
Let's drink to the filmmakers
Let's drink to those who walked under fire & # 33;

We have a reason to drink
For the military wire
For & quot; U-2 & quot ;, for & quot; emka & quot ;, for success;
As a shoulder pushed,
As they walked on foot
How we kept pace before everyone & # 33;

Are you alive or dead -
The main thing is that the room
You managed to pass the material;
And so, by the way,
There was a wick to everyone else
And the rest does not care & # 33;

Where we have been -
We weren’t given tanks
The reporter will die - it does not matter ...
On a pickup truck
And with one gun
We were the first to enter the cities & # 33;

From the winds and vodka
Hoarse our throats
But we will tell everyone who reproaches:
& quot; With our roam,
Have a chat with ours
With our fight for at least a year & # 33; & quot;

Remember us just right
Dead reporters
Kiev and Crimea became the grave ...
At least among them at times
There were heroes -
They will not erect a monument to them ...

So drink for the victory
For my newspaper
But we won’t live, my dear -
Will anybody hear
Will take off and write -
Someone will remember us with you & # 33;

Will anybody hear
Will take off and write -
Someone will remember us with you & # 33;

1943