Ты помнишь, алеша, дороги смоленщины…

Перевод на русский или английский язык текста песни — Ты помнишь, Алеша, дороги Смоленщины… исполнителя Константин Симонов:

Military verses

A. Surkov

Do you remember, Alyosha, the Smolensk road,How were endless, evil rainAs we carried the jug tired womanPressing as children, from rain to their breasts,

As the tears are wiped away by stealth,How to follow us whispered: — God save you! —And once again they called themselves soldier,As it happened in the old days of the great Russia.

Tears measured more frequently than miles,There was a path, on the hills in hiding from the eyes:Village, villages, villages with a graveyard,As if they all converged Russia,

As if for every Russian outskirts,Cross your hands protecting the living,All the world come together, they pray to our ancestorsFor in God do not believe their grandchildren.

You know, probably, all the same homeland —No town house, where I lived festively,And these country roads that grandparents passed,From simple crosses of Russian graves.

I do not know about you, but I have a VillageRoad anguish from village to village,Widows tear and a song woman ‘For the first time it brought the war on the country road.

Do you remember, Alyosha: cottage near Borisov,In the dead girl’s tearful cry,The gray-haired old woman in a plush salopchike,All in white, dressed as death, man.

Well, tell them what we could to comfort them?But, woe to realizing his woman’s intuition,Do you remember the old woman said: — Birthmarks,As long walk, we’ll wait for you.

«We’ll wait for you!» — Told us pasture.«We’ll wait for you!» — Said the forest.You know, Alyosha, it seems to me at night,What’s behind me they are going to vote.

According to Russian customs only conflagrationOn Russian soil will lay behind,Before our eyes, we are dying comrades,In Russian jerked his shirt on his chest.

We bullets with you yet miluyut.But three times believing that life is already full,I’m still proud of was very nice,Over the bitter land where I was born,

Because her death bequeathed to me,What Russian mother bore us into the light,What a fight seeing us Russian womanIn Russian three times hugged me.

Reads — MY Kvashnin

=====================

Oligarchs in Soviet Russia. www.militarists.ru/?p=7814

Текст песни Константин Симонов — Ты помнишь, Алеша, дороги Смоленщины..

Military verses A.

Surkov Do you remember, Alyosha, the Smolensk road, How were infinite, the evil rain As we carried the jug tired woman Pressing as children, Rain them to his chest, As the tears are wiped away by stealth, How to follow us whispered: — God save you! — And once again they called themselves soldier, As it happened in the old days of the great Russia.

Tears measured more frequently than miles, There was a path, on the hills hiding from the eyes: Village, villages, villages with a graveyard, As if they all converged Russia, As if for each Russian outskirts, Cross your hands shielding alive All the world come together, our ancestors prayed For those who believe in God are not his sons.

You know, probably, all the same homeland — Do not house the city where I lived festively, And these country roads that grandparents passed, From simple crosses of Russian graves.

I do not know about you, but I was with the village Road anguish from the village to the village, With the widow’s tears and a song woman ‘ For the first time in the war brought the country road.

Do you remember, Alyosha hut near Borisov, In the dead girl’s tearful cry, The gray-haired old woman in a plush salopchike, All in white, dressed as death, man. Well tell them what we could to comfort them? But woe realizing his womanish instinct, Do you remember the old woman said: — dear, As long as the walk, we’ll wait for you.

«We’ll wait for you!» — Told us pasture. «We’ll wait for you!» — Said the forest. You know, Alyosha, it seems to me at night, What’s behind me they are going to vote. According to Russian customs only conflagration On Russian soil will lay behind Before our eyes, comrades died, In Russian jerked his shirt over his chest. We bullets with you yet miluyut. But three times believing that life is whole, Anyway, I was proud of the most lovely, During the bitter land where I was born, Because her death bequeathed to me, What Russian mother gave birth to us to light, That, in seeing us fight, a Russian woman In Russian three times hugged me. Reads — MY Kvashnin =====================

Oligarchs in Soviet Russia. www.militarists.ru/?p=7814

Do you remember,Alesha, the roads of Smolensk…

Do you remember,*Alesha, the roads of Smolensk,

How the endless, angry rains, gave us no rest,

How the jugs brought to us tired woman,

Pressing like children them, from rain to the chest.

How the tears they covertly wiped,

How behind you, one whispered:-God save you, Alesha!-

And again they called themselves soldier’s wifes,

Like it was a custom in great old Russia.

Measured by tears, more often than *versts,

The road was stretching, on the hills from the eyes disappear:

Villages, villages with graveyards, it hurts,

As if the whole Russia had gathered right here,

As if behind every village outskirt of Russia,

Protecting with a sign of cross the alive ones,

Coming together, our great grandfathers are praying, Alesha

For not believing in God their own grandsons.

It’s our Motherland, you probably know, in spite all of that

Not a building in city, where I lived, worked and played,

And this country roads, that were walked by our grandads,

With simple wooden crosses of their Russian graves.

I don’t know about you, but for me, with the country

Roads longing from village to town,

With the widow tear and with song of a woman

The war brought together on the roads first time

Do you remember, Alesha: the hut near Borisov,

Weeping for dead a young woman cry,

Grayhaired old woman in the plush cloak,

An old man dressed all in white, as if ready to die.

What can I say to them, how could we console them?

But, with her woman’s sense, realise grief and fear,

Do you remember:- My dear, said an old woman,

Go in peace, we’ll wait for you here.

«We’ll wait for you !»- told us pastures and sky.

We’ll wait for you!»- told us the birch trees.

Do you know, Alesha, it seems to me every night,

That their voices are following me.

By Russian customs, only the fires

Scattered behind on the Russian steppe,

Before our eyes our friends were dying,

In Russian tradition rip the shirt on the chest.

The bullets so far have spared us, though they come near.

But, three times believed, that my life has gone,

I’m still was so proud for our most dear,

For our bitter land , where I was born,

Because, it’s bequeathed to me, right here to die,

That the Russian mother brought us into the world,

That the Russian woman, seeing us off to the fight

In Russian tradition, embrace me three times.

Anatoli Trojanowski

Добавлено Treugol’ny в вт, 25/12/2018 — 11:54

Комментарий:

Alesha-man’s name ( Aleksey)
Versta-Russian measure of length, apr. 1,06 km.
Anatoli Trojanowski