Текст песни Булат Окуджава - Сентиментальный Марш

Hope I’ll be back when the trumpeter hangs up,
When he brings the pipe to his lips and the sharp elbow takes it away.
Hope, I will remain intact, the land is not damp for me,
And for me, your anxieties and the good world of your worries.

But if a whole century passes and you hope to get tired,
Hope, if death is necessary for me, will open its wings,
You command, then let the wounded trumpeter rise up,
So that the last grenade could not finish me.

But if suddenly, someday, I won’t be able to protect myself,
Whatever new battle shakes the globe of the earth,
I’ll fall on that one, on that one Civil one,
And the commissioners in dusty helmets will bow silently over me.