The floorboards are used to make tables on site.
Before they are set up, they play dominoes.
The daytime in May is much longer than night,
And everything’s settled, but time’s dragging on.

The lamps from before the beginning of war are half-lighted.
And Moscow already looked down on the prisoners stunned.
But somewhere a shrapnel is pushing the heart ever slightly,
And somewhere the reconning soldiers must bring back a "tongue".

They’re busy renewing the banners and forming processions.
The cobblestone square is as clean as the herringbone floor.
And yet westbound trains still depart, still depart from the stations,
And casualty notes make the women to cry out in woe.

No water was drunk to the fullest extent.
No rings for the wedding were bought in advance.
It was washed away by the flooding event -
The people’s great grief, that is ending, at last.

The paper strip crosses are torn from the window glass panels.
The curtains are gone, for the blackout’s a thing of the past.
But somewhere they’re handing out vodka ahead of the battle,
It drives out the cold, and the fear, and the plague at long last.

The soot of the candles is cleaned from the icons with passion.
The soul and the lips are composing a prayer or verse.
And yet red cross trains still arrive, still arrive at the stations,
Although the reports claim our losses are minor of course.

The gardens are blooming, a feast for the eyes.
The ground has warmed up, and the ditches have dried.
And soon the reward for the valor arrives:
A pillow of grass for your head to reside.

The tethered balloons high above are no longer in favor.
The sirens are silent, for victory will soon be cheered.
But company leaders are being promoted to majors,
Even though there’s a chance that they, too, will be easily killed.

The captured accordions now started to play with elation,
The vows speak of love, of consent, of not being in debt.
And yet westbound trains still depart, still depart from the stations,
And we had assumed that there would be no enemy left.