Текст песни Михаил Светлов - Итальянец

Black Cross on the Italian Breast,
No thread, nor pattern, nor gloss, -
Related familiar family
And the only son is wearable ...

Young native of Naples!
What did you leave in Russia on the field?
Why couldn't you be happy
Over the native famous bay?

I killed you under Mozdok,
So dreamed of a distant volcano!
How I was dreaming on Volzhsky driving
Although the time ride in the gondola!

But I did not come with a pistol
Take the italian summer
But my bullets do not whistled
Over the sacred land of Rafael!

Here I shot! Here where was born
Where he and friends were proud of
Where are the epics about our peoples
Never sound in translations.

Is there a middle day
Foreign scientist studied?
Our land is Russia, the race -
Did you scratch and sowned?

Not! You were brought in Echelon
To capture distant colonies,
To the scene from the Lart from the family
I grown to the sizes of the gravestone ...

I will not give my homeland to take out
For the space of the alien seas!
I shoot - and there is no justice
Fair my bullet!

You never lived here and was not! ..
But scattered in snow fields
Italian blue sky,
Glazed in dead eyes ...

1943.