Heavy footsteps rang out through the night, like a call to arms harrowing, Thus we too, will soon leave and in silence will bid a farewell. On the roads not yet trodden, the horses are galloping, galloping, Carrying riders towards the unknown, unpredictable end. Our own time is unusual, dashing, you have to seek happiness! And we give it a chase, but it flees, once again on the run. In the heat of pursuit we at times lose our trusted companions, On the gallop were failing to see that our comrades are gone. And for long we will find that the creak of high-boots sounds so menacing, For a while well mistake any light for the smoldering homes, And the games children play will be war-themed with names so unsettling, And we long will divide everyone for the friendlies and foes. When its over at last, no more din, no more weeping cries, finally, When beneath us our horses get tired of this galloping ride, When our girls change their tunics for dresses and wear them delightfully, We should not then forget, we should not then forgive and abide!
Kirill Tolmachev. Translation, 2022