Текст песни Юрий Слатов - Вот уже и письма перестал писать

That's already stopped writing letters,
For face and I began to forget.
Southern sky black, desert mirage
Whether I had a dream, or profit.

Disappear remember the days of the calendar
I remember hiking difficulty.
Salty taste of sweat, blood red
Whether that was all, or not.

But the newspaper article vskolyhnёt memory,
Puts the soul tear chest names.
Again heart is cold and anxious beats
On the ground, the Afghan battle goes again.

And in the hot dust choking me
Under me gray earth melts.
Each bullet stumbled falls slain
Do not see the mother will not see the house.

Like a photograph of the face of all friends
Crushes his conscience memory memory.
And around the Russian lovely meadows,
And for them tough Afghan land

Now and no one to write a letter
For face and I began to forget
Southern sky black, desert mirage
Whether I had a dream, whether profit