Mikhail Isakovsky
In a forest near the battle-front

The yellow birch leaves whirl and fall,
On earth they're quitely laying.
The ancient waltz «Dreams of the Fall»
Th'accordion is playing.
The music sings, complanes, and sighs,
And listening to its sound,
In dreamful slumber close threir eyes
My fellow-soldiers around.

This waltz was also playing when
In Spring we came to dance,
We listen to `it with our girl-friends,
Accompanying our romance.
These sounds were falling from above
And then so much they told
To hearts and souls of boys in love
Of twenty years old.

And now we hear it again,
Perhaps, for the last time.
The sounds do not fall in vain,
They make our hearts to chime.
In silence, one is recalling her,
That Spring, and each of us
Knows well that through this bloody war
The road to her will pass.

Recall the joy of good old days,
It may be your last chance.
Remember, even if one dies,
It happens only once.
Remember, a good soldier 's not
Afraid of dying in fire,
And let one do exactly what
His duty will require.

Well, now 'tis our turn, my friends,
So let the steel be hard!
And let be strong and firm our hands
And brave be our hearts.
'Tis time, let's go straight ahead
Without fear or sorrow,
For all that yesterday we had
And all that comes tomorrow.

The yellow birch leaves whirl and fall,
On earth they quitely lay.
The good old waltz «Dreams of the Fall»
Th'accordion does play.
The music sings, complanes, and sighs,
And listening to its sound,
In dreamful slumber close threir eyes
My fellow-soldiers around.

Translated by Vladimir Gurvich