Lyrics И. Растеряев - Дед Агван

Grandfather Aghvan

I have not seen my own grandfathers,
And I could hardly see:
Everything before my birth
They died.

But I'm not deprived of fate
I'm happy anyway.
There was a grandfather nearby, even if not his own,
But dearly beloved.

He was non-Russian - from the Armenians,
From the village, from the people -
Aghvan Tigranich Grigoryan,
Twenty-sixth year.

He was a hero and a veteran -
Such that straight from the book -
For all. And I threw him
For the collar of the ice.

I knew everything about the war since childhood -
After all, grandfather, without any mess,
Taught me every day
With a plate of semolina.

It was like this: he passed peacefully
Sheep at Ararat.
And suddenly she took to us
German armada,

So that neither Russians nor Armenians
It was not in nature here,
But then grandfather Aghvan drove up,
And he was sharply opposed.

True, not one arrived ...
Flocked like rivers
Thousands of Georgians go there,
Kazakhs and Uzbeks ...

A crowd of different languages
They sat in the trenches.
And in those trenches the whole crowd
Instantly Russified.

Instead of sheep this time
Others were beasts.
And the grandfather in his sight
"Tiger" passed, twisted the tail of "Panther" ...

In Russian, communication went on with him
Not perfect at first
But the phrase "The tower was torn down"
He understood - literally.

My grandfather and I could have three plates
Eat that same porridge
Listening to how they went
On foot to the West.

And, as always, for the umpteenth time
As a result, they threw in ...
And then there was such a story,
Like in a tearful series:

"Berlin. April. The earth is shaking.
Shells, bullets - hail ... "
And the grandfather runs down the street
With a trophy machine gun.

Broken houses all around
Like the mountains of the Caucasian ridges.
Grandfather has five grenades with him,
Suddenly looking: on a heap of rubble

Lies, whines from terrible wounds,
Alone like a splinter in a storm
The same as him, kid,
But only in German uniform.

And pokes grandfather at the window
Explains with her hands
That he is at his house
Lies and dies.

What are his parents,
That he is Berlin, local,
His war has come
Before your entrance.

And grandfather on top of his luggage
Although he was not the strongest,
Took it up, and to the floor -
Where mom and dad are,

Where an explosion led the beam,
Where the lamp glows:
"Meet, Frau, your
German soldier "...

Grandfather, speaking about this moment,
Suddenly it immediately changed:
About a terrible mother's cry
About how he stayed there.

As in the kitchen where the chandal was burning,
The waters were heated for him,
How hate washed away with dirt
For years and weeks

Slept on white sheets
In the midst of war and hell
And I dreamed of peaceful days
In the valley of Ararat.

As in the morning he went again
To the victorious date close,
Hearing from behind "Danke schon"
By answering them "Goodbye" ...

I always interrupted here,
Hardly listened to:
"Grandpa, what nonsense?"
Come on how you shot!

Come on like you were on fire
I almost died on a mine ... "-
I was not interested
About sheets in Berlin.

But the grandfather was silent for something,
I went for the addition of porridge
And he pushed the porridge into his mouth again,
To become faster I am older ...

He's gone, and I'm big.
And suddenly I was documenting:
That day was the main battle
For the title of man.