Express Moscow - Warsaw, seat thirteen, -
I don’t believe in omen - it is not because of the omen:
Indeed I am merely to Minsk, the major - merely to Brest,
I make myself understood to the major, and each - about his.

I to him about my defects,
But he doesn’t know about grief:
Economicly - everything is in order with him,
Morally - Spit on moral!

The major is not talkative - the war ended for him being a soldier, -
But when I to him with all my heart - the major became affably.
But after an hour we both used bad language,
And obtained a very concrete conversation.

I to him about my defects,
But he doesn’t know about grief:
Economicly - everything is in order with him,
Morally - Spit on moral!

The major almost wept, because he again will depart,
Because he is again near Berlin for a whole year:
He has sufficient trouble without those Germans, -
If there had at least been fighting, but now it’s the other way around.

I to him about my defects,
But he doesn’t know about grief:
Economicly - everything is in order with him,
Morally - Spit on moral!

The major is centimental - he had a nervous break down:
His wife escorted him however - I spoke to her.
Afterwards the major told me: "Now is not forty-one,
And I - believe me lad! - It’s like to live one’s life all over again.

I to him about my defects,
But he doesn’t know about grief:
Economicly - everything is in order with him,
Morally - Spit on moral!