His home was burned down by foe,
They murdered all his kin and wife.
Where now the soldier has to go?
And what is left in his hard life?
In a wide field the soldier found,
Near the crossing of two paths,
A desolate small burial mound,
Grown `over with a native grass.
With a'lump in throat, he said, "My dear,
Your husband now you receive.
I came to you as a straight hero
And don't deserve that much of grief.
In our home lay wide cloth,
The guest with honor you've to treat.
I won the war, so now we'll both
Rejoice our long-awaited meet."
Nobody answered to the soldier,
Except the murmuring wild grass.
Warm summer wind was getting bolder,
Made it to vacillate and rustle.
The soldier deeply sighed and frowned,
Took off his kit-bag, opened it;
The bottle of vodka he put down
On the gravestone grey granit.
"Do not denounce me, my dear,
That I have come to you like this.
I planned to drink with words of cheer.
Instead, I'm drinking for your peace.
Let all wives meet their men tomorrow.
Yet, this is not about us..."
He drank his vodka with his sorrow
Mixed half and half in a'mug of brass.
He drank without toasts and cheers,
Just once he rised the mug to say,
"I went to you for four long years,
Conquered four countries on my way,
But all my hopes 're dead". And bitter
Tears came out. And on his chest,
Like one of them, did slightly glitter
The medal for taking Budapest.
Враги сожгли родную хату,
Сгубили всю его семью.
Куда ж теперь идти солдату,
Кому нести печаль свою?
Пошел солдат в глубоком горе
На перекресток двух дорог,
Нашел солдат в широком поле
Травой заросший бугорок.
Стоит солдат — и словно комья
Застряли в горле у него.
Сказал солдат: «Встречай, Прасковья,
Героя — мужа своего.
Готовь для гостя угощенье,
Накрой в избе широкий стол, —
Свой день, свой праздник возвращенья
К тебе я праздновать пришел...»
Никто солдату не ответил,
Никто его не повстречал,
И только теплый летний ветер
Траву могильную качал.
Вздохнул солдат, ремень поправил,
Раскрыл мешок походный свой,
Бутылку горькую поставил
На серый камень гробовой.
«Не осуждай меня, Прасковья,
Что я пришел к тебе такой:
Хотел я выпить за здоровье,
А должен пить за упокой.
Сойдутся вновь друзья, подружки,
Но не сойтись вовеки нам...»
И пил солдат из медной кружки
Вино с печалью пополам.
Он пил - солдат, слуга народа,
И с болью в сердце говорил:
«Я шел к тебе четыре года,
Я три державы покорил...»
Хмелел солдат, слеза катилась,
Слеза несбывшихся надежд,
И на груди его светилась
Медаль за город Будапешт.
«to Y. Kim What can I do for you, grasshopper, dear, / when with your song of praise you get ahead? / It cures one of grief, just lend an ear, / just listen, and it will revive the dead. / / You touch a string, I wonder how you make it, / so that the chorus suddenly joins in, / myster...»
«After rain the sky / is so vast and clear / both the brass and dew / are as bright as day. / Sounds of flute and horn, / flowing, reach my ear, / the conductor is / up to fly away. / / Brass-bands of the past / in my heart resound, / not the war time bands, / but from peacef...»
«The tune swayed up and down, forward, backward, / reminding of a boat on raging waves; / the old street-organ playing in the backyard / presented me with sadness and great pains. / / I was about to begin to cry / when suddenly I clearly made out / the happy, joyous and delighted sound...»
«Life is fine but it’s strange, for a wonder, / and as short as the stroke of the pen; / now it’s time to slow down and ponder / on its wound and the torturous pain. / / Now it’s time to be thoughtful and serious / while we live we should muse and think hard: / what is there behi...»