Work Text:
We lay down by a broken fir tree,
Waiting for the daybreak to start,
Overcoat made us two much warmer
On the frozen and rotten ground.
"You know, Yulka, I don't like sadness,
But today it just doesn't count
At my home, in the apple backwoods,
It's my mom that I left behind.
You have friends and your precious lover,
And I only have her back home.
Outside there the spring is bubbling,
House smelling like smoke and dough.
She imagines that every small bush
Longs for her restless child to come.
You know, Yulka, I don't like sadness,
But today it just doesn't count."
Only barely we got warmer
And command to come forward heard.
Back again, next to me is soldier,
With light braids and wet overcoat.
Every day it was getting sadder.
Went without the noise or flags.
Near to Orsha there was surrounded
Our battalion, battered bad.
To attack Zinka led us forward,
Made the way through the blackened rye,
Passing craters, ravines and going
Through the borders of human life.
Didn't wish for postmortem glory,
Only wanted to live with fame.
...Tell me then, why are bandages gory
On a soldier with lighter braids?
I was covering Yulka's body
With my overcoat, clenching teeth.
Of Ryazan's outlying gardens
Belarusian winds did sing.
"You know, Zinka, I don't like sadness,
But today it just doesn't count.
Somewhere far, in the apple backwoods,
It's your mom that you left behind.
I have friends and my precious lover,
And she only had you back home.
Outside there the spring is bubbling,
House smelling like smoke and dough.
Lit a candle next to an icon
An old woman in flower clothes.
...I don't know what words I should write her,
So she wouldn't expect you home?!”
***
And this is the direct translation:
We lay down by a broken fir tree.
Waiting for when it will finally start getting light.
Under the overcoat it’s warmer together
On the chilled, rotten ground.
“You know, Yulka, I am against sadness,
But today it doesn’t count.
At home, in the apple backwoods
Lives my mother, my mum.
You have friends and the one you love,
I only have her.
(our) Hut smells like bread dough and smoke,
And outside the spring is thriving.
It seems to old woman that every small bush
Is waiting for her restless daughter…
You know, Yulka, I am against sadness,
But today it doesn’t count.”
We barely got warmer.
Suddenly came an order to advance.
Again next to me in a wet overcoat
Goes a fair-haired soldier.
Every day it was getting worse.
We went without any noise or banners.
Near Orsha our battered battalion was surrounded.
Zinka led us into attack.
We broke through black rye,
(Running) across bomb craters and gullies
Through the frontiers of death.
We didn’t expect posthumous glory -
We wanted to live with glory.
...Then why does a fair-haired soldier
Lie in bloody bandages?
I was clenching my teeth as I covered
Her body with my overcoat.
Belarusian winds sang
About Ryazan’s remote gardens.
“You know, Yulka, I am against sadness,
But today it doesn’t count.
Somewhere, in the apple backwoods
Lives your mother, your mum.
I have friends and the one I love,
She only had you.
(your) Hut smells like bread dough and smoke,
And outside the spring is thriving.
And an old woman in a flowery dress
Lit up a candle in front of an icon.
...I don’t know how to write her
So she wouldn’t wait for you?!