No crosses stand over these war graves of ours,
No widows come sobbing to mourn here
But people bring garlands and bouquets of flowers,
And a small flame perpetually burns here.

This place was once bare, the earth ravaged and torn,
Today it has slabs for a cover
Today in the graves are these dead all made one
Their separate lives now are over

But deep in the flame you see gutted tanks smoke,
And razed Russian villages smoulder;
Blazing Smolensk, and the blazing Reichstag
The fierce blazing heart of the soldier

No sorrowing wives wet these graves with their tears.
The people who come here are stronger.
No crosses stand over these war graves of ours
But is there, for all that less to mourn for?