Текст песни Лариса Казакова и Татьяна Бикова - Последняя Осень

I'll write an hour after the fight,
And now I can't, don't ask.
Squadrons run without looking back
Carrying the dead at a trot.
We are no longer enough in ranks of eight
And the heroes are bored with the soldier's jargon.
And the last autumn is embroidering the crosses
On the worn gold of our shoulder straps.

I'll write an hour after death,
And now I can't, don't call.
Funeral sealing wax on the envelope
Blood was kneaded on mine.
We do not ask the Lord God for favors,
Only dust, but hooves, and a bullet in pursuit.
And the last autumn is embroidering the crosses
On the worn gold of our shoulder straps.