ENEMIES HAVE BURNED NATIVE HOUSE (HUT) Words: M.Isakovski, Music: M.
Blanter Enemies have burned native house (hut), have destroyed all his family. Where can soldier go now? Where may he bring his sadness? Soldier went in dark grief to cross-roads of two ways, he found in broad field hillock overgrown by grass. Soldier stands and as clods have stuck in his throat. He said: "Meet, Praskovjya, your hero-husband. Prepare refreshments to guest, lay wide table in house, I come to you to celebrate my day, may holiday of my return. Nobody answered to soldier, nobody met him. An only warm summer wind rocked grave grass. Soldier has sighed for, put straight leather band (strap), reached his kit-bag, has put bitter bottle on grey grave stone. "Don't blame me, Praskovjya, that I have come to you such as am I, I wanted to drink for health, but must drink for death. Friends meet again, but we'll not meet never. And soldier drank from copper mug Wine with sorrow in half. Soldier, servant of people drank and with pain at heard told: 'I went to you four years, I've conquered three States, Soldier became drunk, tear rolled, tear of unrealizable hopes. And on his bosom medal for Budapest town shined.
--------------------Draft translation from Russian to English - "word-by-word rough text" 29th of June, 2006