Dans la Forêt, près du front...
S berioz, neslyshen, nevesom,
Sletaet zhioltyi list.
Starinnyi val's «Osennii son»
Igraet garmonist.
Vzdykhaiut, zhaluias', basy,
I, slovno v zabyt'i,
Sidiat i slushaiut boitsy -
Tovarishchi moi.
Pod etot val's vesennim dnem
Khodili my na krug,
Pod etot val's v kraiu rodnom
Liubili my podrug;
Pod etot val's lovili my
Ochei prekrasnykh svet.
Pod etot val's grustili my,
Kogda podrugi net.
I vot on snova prozvuchal
V lesu prifrontovom,
I kazhdyi slushal i mechtal
O chiom-to dorogom;
I kazhdyi dumal o svoei,
Pripomniv tu vesnu,
I kazhdyi znal - doroga k nei
Vediot cherez voinu...
Pust' svet i radost' prezhnikh vstrech
Nam svetiat v trudnyi chas,
A kol' pridiotsia v zemliu lech',
Tak eto zh tol'ko raz.
No pust' i smert' - v ogne, v dymu
Boitsa ne ustrashit,
I chto polozheno komu,
Pust' kazhdyi sovershit.
Tak chto zh, druz'ia, kol' nash cheriod,-
Da budet stal' krepka!
Pust' nashe serdtse ne zamriot,
Ne zadrozhit ruka;
Nastal cheriod, prishla pora,-
Vperiod, druz'ia, idiom!
Za vsio, chem zhili my vchera,
Za vsio, chto zavtra zhdiom!
S berioz, neslyshen, nevesom,
Sletaet zhioltyi list.
Starinnyi val's «Osennii son»
Igraet garmonist.
Vzdykhaiut, zhaluias', basy,
I, slovno v zabyt'i,
Sidiat i slushaiut boitsy -
Tovarishchi moi...
Commentaires