Текст песни Аркадий Дубинчик - Трубач

My tired trumpeter, stubborn hand clutching a horn,
Shut up, do not ask
heaven is merciful -
No longer is it, dear.

All bridges are burned, and boats, and the city
They lie in ruins,
At night avalanches
Enemies sometimes choking.

But over the sleep of being rotten stubble, vranёm crows,
At dawn darkness,
As a sign of attack,
Again vzovёtsya your pipe.

Only the abyss or the firmament,
life or death only,
Only the sound of the trumpet in the halo of the fight ...
The halo of struggle.

My naive trumpeter, hopes - funny clothes - the Old,
And darkness - bessveten,
And the enemy is immortal,
But behind the music - stand poetry.

Only the truth and falsehood,
Copper bitter tremors,
Only the sound of the trumpet in the halo of the fight ...
The halo of struggle.