From the border we once had been turning Earth back -
That was so at first, no denying.
But our colonel turned it again in its track,
Pushing with his foot off Ural mountains.

At long last we were given the order: Advance,
Take back all our fields and our cities,
But remember we well, how the sun turned apace
And went down almost on the East side.

We don’t measure the Earth with our footsteps,
Bothering all the flowers in vain,
We are pushing it with our boots, so -
From ourselves, from ourselves.

And to wind from the East have bent down stacks of hay,
Against mountains the flock is pressing.
Without lever the axis of Earth we have changed,
Having altered the war’s direction.

Do not fear when the sunrise is not in place:
Judgment day - is a tale for the former.
Our batallions turn the earth as they may,
And wherever they wish to go.

We are crawling, hugging the hillsides,
Tearing tussosks with anger, with hate,
And we’re pushing the Earth with our knees, so -
From ourselves, from ourselves.

Here nobody will find, even if he so wants,
Those who lift their hands in surrender.
To the living - there is a use for the corpse:
We are using the dead to defend us.

This dumb lead, will it find everyone at same time,
Where it reaches - in face or behind you?
Someone fell ahead of us on a mine
And the earth for a moment stood silent.

I have left my feet right behind me,
Momentarily mourning the dead,
And the earth I turn with my elbows -
From myself, from myself.

Someone stood in full height and took the fall -
Right in chest, after giving a bow.
Only westward, westward, batallion crawls,
That the sun does not set in the East now.

With the belly on dirt, smelling rot from the swamps,
Closing eyes to the stench, moving forward.
Now the sun on horison normally goes,
For this reason: We’re tearing westward!

Hands and legs - there in place, or torn out -
Tasting dew like at wedding - ahead!
We are dragging the earth by the stems now -
Toward ourselves, toward ourselves!