Текст песни Aufschwung - Горечь Победы

It reminds the thunder of fireworks
The tragedy of the war past,
Where they burned up the fate of people,
Plunging spirit imprisoned graves.

And it does not heal the wounds of time,
After paying back the eye,
To remember how to win,
And they went to their death, the fear of throwing.

But what is left of the victory?
In the quagmire of poverty sons.
The country is groaning on her knees.
Where the veterans of that war?

They drove to the parades,
Under the formidable battle drums,
Leaving only bits of Fame
And crowning poverty ...

And died under the roar of the crowd
Russia heroes that saved us.
Heart slashed your question:
"So if our people won?".

Tragedies echo harden pain.
Power won! Power! Do not the people!
And millions that slept in the ground.
Price of power! Such is the answer ...