Текст песни B.T.R. - Хатынь

Angry Monday in the middle of March was silent and waited
118th battalion ahead of God got up
Squeezing with horror in the hands of the trembling hands of children,
The huts went to the barn under the punching and kicks of animals.

And we will never forget you!
Waving dust
Spring plays the fragments of the sun,
Hutyn is burning.
Crane's crying will always remind us
Screams of children
149 shower, 147 deaths

First smoke, and then confusion. Padlock
The heat stroke, boiling blood. Mortal flow.
On the will of bullets screaming mass burnt bodies
The blacksmith carries Adam's hands, he alone survived