Въ утренней мглѣ
Горнъ проигралъ сигналъ.
Сопокъ уснувшихъ чуткій покой
Маршъ боевой взорвалъ.
Шквальный огонь
Встрѣтилъ пѣхоты цѣпь.
Дыбомъ предъ ней вставала земля,
Въ небѣ рвалась шрапнель.
Замолчалъ альтистъ молодой,
Еле слышенъ маршъ боевой,
И корнетъ умолкъ, и валторна,
Лишь играетъ трубачъ сѣдой.
Вверхъ и впередъ!
Близокъ окоповъ рядъ.
Гибель свинецъ навстрѣчу несетъ,
Но нѣтъ намъ пути назадъ.
Рукопашный бой удалый
Разыгрался въ морѣ огня.
Врагъ не забудетъ день схватки кровавой,
Русскій нашъ штыкъ кляня.
Вѣнскій вальсъ оркестру полковому
Въ паркѣ городскомъ не играть -
И трубачу, и альтисту младому
Въ сопкахъ судьба лежать.
Горечь утратъ
Болью сжимаетъ грудь,
Павшихъ героевъ тѣни кружатъ,
Вальсъ навѣваетъ грусть…
Спите, бойцы,
Вѣчная память вамъ -
Нерукотворный всталъ къ небесамъ
Славы нетлѣнный Храмъ!
И не крестъ на сопкахъ стоитъ,
Не гранитъ покой вашъ хранитъ,
О бояхъ и товарищахъ павшихъ
Вальсъ Маньчжурскій въ сердцахъ звучитъ.
In the morning MGL
Gorn lost the signal.
Hull who fell asleep sensitive peace
The march of the battle blew up.
Heavy fire
Strengthened the bonnet.
The end of her arose the earth,
The shrapnel was neutrally torn.
Altist young, young,
The march is barely heard,
And the cornet kept silent, and Valtorna,
Only plays the trumpeter.
Up and forward!
The trenches are close.
The death of lead is in a hunger
But we don’t have the way back.
Hand -to -hand combat is remote
I played in the face of fire.
The enemy will not forget the day of the contractions of the bloody,
Russian our bayonet.
Vynskiy Vals to the orchestra to the region
Do not play the city parck -
Both Trubach and Altist Mladom
In the hills fate to lie.
The bitterness of loss
Pains the chest with pain,
Fallen heroes are circling,
Waltz is busy with sadness ...
Sleep, fighters,
Veskal memory to you -
The miraculous stood up to heaven
Glory is an imperishable temple!
And not the cross on the hills is worth
Not granite your peace keeps,
About battles and comrades fallen
Waltz Manchurskiy in the heart sounds.
