Серафим - Ветераны
текст песни

There are precious few of us left now—
Veterans of the Second World War;
Yet throughout the land, it has become a tradition
To celebrate the sacred Day of Victory.

On the holiday itself, and in the days leading up to it,
We are always shown a little extra care;
In conversation—and sometimes from the podium—
We recall exactly how things were back then.

How we left our school desks behind us
To go and fight a hateful foe;
How we survived within that fiery crucible,
Despite the hardships raging all around.

We remember those with whom we charged with bayonets fixed,
Those with whom we shared a single greatcoat for warmth;
We remember our field post offices, too,
And the letters that we sent back home.

We remember the medical carts,
The groans of the wounded, the blood upon the bandages;
And that single cigarette shared among three men,
Held in our calloused, soldier’s hands.

Though our hands may tremble now,
And tears may often well up in our eyes,
We still remember those days and those torments—
We remember the eyes of our fallen friends.

We grieve that, once again,
Our grandchildren must rise to crush the fascists;
That the seeds of this plague still linger on—
That we failed to finish them all off back then.

This heavy burden has fallen upon their shoulders—
To bring this phase of the struggle to its close,
To eradicate this vile filth forevermore;
For from this destiny, there is no escape.