Текст песни Алексей Петрухин и группа Губерния - Береза

"Birch"

As my mother found out unexpectedly,
Where is her son lying.
Planted at the grave
Thin fragile stalk.

It doesn’t work out, apparently
To visit her soldier.
Take care of son
No one else to ask.

No cross and no fence
At the grave of a fighter
On an abandoned hillock
Grass weeds have grown.

Shade of a snow-white birch
The eternal dream keeps him
Like mom is next to her son
Inconsolable worth.

Chorus:

White birch, like a soul,
Standing next to the grave, not breathing.
With black spots on birch bark,
As a memory of a past war.
White birch, like a soul,
Standing next to the grave, not breathing.
With black spots on birch bark.
This is the memory of the last war.

The birch rustles in the wind
It’s like talking to someone.
How many are white birch trees
Are soldiers standing at the graves?

The wind breaks the leaves
At the birch branches.
And swirl above the ground
Leaves letters of sons.

Mom will come out of the gate
At the birch stand
And stroking the barrel with his hand,
He will remember his son, will be sad.

Hides tears in her eyes
The shadow of birch branches
White-bore birch -
Simvor of Russian mothers.

Chorus:

White birch, like a soul
Near the grave stands not breathing
With black spots on birch bark,
As a memory of a past war.
White birch, like a soul,
Near the grave stands without breathing.
With black spots on birch bark.
This is the memory of the last war.

Sweet juice of birches.
Groves in the spring cry.
Drops of pure tears -
This is the memory of the war.

Sleeping soldier in the ground
Enemy bullet killed
White-birch birch
An eternal dream keeps him.

Chorus:

White birch, like a soul,
Standing next to the grave, not breathing.
With black spots on birch bark,
As a memory of a past war.
White birch, like a soul,
Standing next to the grave, not breathing.
With black spots on birch bark.
This is the memory of the last war.

White birch, like a soul,
Standing next to the grave, not breathing.
With black spots on birch bark,
As a memory of a past war.
White birch, like a soul,
Standing next to the grave, not breathing.
With black spots on birch bark.
This is the memory of the last war.

This is the memory of the last war.

White birch, like a soul,
Standing next to the grave, not breathing.
With black spots on birch bark.
This is the memory of the last war.