Текст песни Василий Лановой - Я убит подо Ржевом. Стих А. Твардовский

Alexander Tvardovsky

I'M KILLED UNDER RUST
I was killed near Rzhev,
In a nameless swamp
In the fifth company,
On the left,
With a severe raid.

I didn't hear the break
And I did not see that flash, -
Exactly into the abyss from the cliff -
And no bottom, no tires.

And all over this world
Until the end of his days -
No buttonholes
Not a mark
From my tunic.

I am where the roots are blind
Looking for food in the dark;
I am where with a cloud of dust
Rye walks on the hill.

I am where the cock's cry
At dawn in the dew;
I - where are your cars
The air is ripped on the highway.

Where - blade to blade -
The river spins grass
Where to wake
Even the mother will not come.

In the summer of a bitter year
I am killed. For me -
No news, no reports
After this day.

Count up, alive
How long ago
Was at the front for the first time
Stalingrad was suddenly named.

The front burned without dying away
Like a scar on the body.
I am killed and I do not know -
Is Rzhev ours at last?

Did our
There, in the Middle Don?
This month was terrible.
Everything was at stake.

Really until autumn
Don was already behind him
And at least by wheels
To the Volga escaped about n?

No it is not true! Tasks
That was not won by the enemy.
No, no! Otherwise,
Even dead - how?

And the dead, the voiceless,
There is only one consolation:
We fell for the homeland,
But she -
Saved.

Our eyes are dim
The flame of the heart went out.
On the ground in check
They are not calling out to us.

We are like a bump, like a stone
Even deeper, darker.
Our eternal memory -
Who is jealous of her?

Our ashes by right
Possessed by black soil.
Our eternal glory
A sad reason.

We have our own fighting
Do not wear orders.
All this to you, alive.
We are one joy,

That it was not for nothing that they fought
We are for the motherland.
Let our voice not be heard
You must know him.

You should have, brothers,
Stand like a wall
For the curse of the dead -
This punishment is terrible.

This is a bitter right
It is given to us forever
And behind us it is -
This is a bitter right.

In the summer, at forty-two,
I am buried without a grave.
Everything that happened then
Death cheated me.

To everyone that maybe a long time ago
Everyone is familiar and clear.
But let it be
We agree with our faith.

Brothers, maybe you
And don’t lost
And in the rear of Moscow
They died for her.

And in the Trans-Volga distance
Hastily dug trenches,
And with battles we reached
To the limit of Europe.

It's enough for us to know
That was undoubtedly
There is the last inch
On the military road, -

That last inch
What if we leave
That stepped back
There's nowhere to put my foot ...

And the enemy turned
You are west, back.
Maybe twinned.
And Smolensk has already been taken?

And you crush the enemy
On a different frontier
Maybe you're to the border
Have you approached already?

Maybe ... May it come true
Holy Oath Word:
After all, Berlin, if you remember,
It was named near Moscow.

Brothers now trampled
Fortress of enemy land
If the dead, the fallen
If only they could cry!

If the volleys were victorious
Us, dumb and deaf,
Us that are betrayed for eternity
Resurrected for a moment.

Oh, faithful comrades,
Only then would I be in a war
Your happiness is immeasurable
You have fully comprehended!

In him, that happiness, indisputable
Our blood part
Ours, torn off by death,
Faith, hate, passion.

Our everything! Do not cheat
We're in a hard fight
Having given everything, they did not leave
Nothing with you.

Everything is listed on you
Forever, not for a period.
And alive not to reproach
This voice is our conceivable.

For in this war
We did not know the difference:
Those that are alive, that have fallen
We were on a par.

And no one in front of us
Of the living, not in debt
Who is the banner from our hands
I picked it up on the run

So that for a sacred cause,
For Soviet power
Just the same, maybe exactly
One step further to fall.

I was killed near Rzhev,
That one is still near Moscow ...
Somewhere, warriors, where are you,
Who was left alive ?!

In cities of millions
In the villages, at home - in the family?
In battle garrisons
Not on our land?

Oh, is it your own, someone else's,
All in flowers or in the snow ...

I will bequeath you to live -
What more can I do?

I will in that life
You happy to be
And to the native land
Serve with honor.

To grieve - proudly
Without bowing your head.
To glee is not boastful
In the hour of victory itself.

And keep her holy
Brothers, - your happiness, -
In memory of the warrior brother
That he died for her.
1945-1946