Bulat Okudzhava
It’s no longer sung, our regiment’s old chant...

It’s no longer sung, our regiment’s old chant,
Merry hooves have given up the thunder.
Shots have holed the bottom of the billy-can,
Sutler girl is lying six feet under.

Left are not so many: we and then our ache.
We are few, our foes are few, we’re even.
While we are still living, fight’s our only stake,
Though when dead, our road will lead to Eden.

Finger on the trigger, head has got the blues,
Soul’s already lifted off, we figure,
Writing on the sand with blood, what is the use?
‘Cause to read it nature isn’t eager.

Sleep in peace, my brothers — all will come once more:
New commanders will be giving orders,
And new soldiers will be getting as before
Those eternal military quarters.

Sleep in peace, my brothers — such is nature’s plot,
All will come full circle never breaking:
There'll be love and bloodshed, there’ll be words and shots,
With no time remaining for peacemaking.

Translated by Evgenia Sarkisyants