Текст песни ПЕТЛЮРА - Солдатка

At the table - New Year's toast,
   And the champagne glasses ring
   Only he won’t return home
   Will not congratulate civilians.
   Stronger bayonets
   And the grenades are tearing closer and closer
   Well, raise your friend, a glass
   For that young soldier.
   Well, raise your friend, a glass
   For that young soldier.
    
   She won’t raise her glasses
   And do not remember the cute furtively.
   There are many guys nearby, among them
   It’s funny to be called a soldier.
   Well, he, as a native, will squeeze
   That cold steel machine
   Well, raise your friend, a glass
   For that young soldier.
   Well, raise your friend, a glass
   For that young soldier.
    
   Maybe in Murmansk, maybe in the Crimea
   Knights in gray overcoats will rise
   So that I could sleep better
   Who stayed in civilian beds.
   Well, he died for Russia,
   Shouting your name to the guys
   Well, raise your friend, a glass
   For the mention of a young soldier.
   Well, raise your friend, a glass
   For the mention of a young soldier.