Текст песни Кукрыниксы - 9-я Рота

My voice does not wait,
Come out of me,
My soul does not burn,
Give me another fire.
Those who know the way,
Where can I forget everything,
Conscience them whether,
The door did not give close.

From the walls of fire
Caught in the calendar,
From mountain trails
Whatever the path, then the coffin.
From hot words
What did not write home,
From vivid dreams
And I raised my voice.

Maybe all in vain,
And there are no roads.
A place for you
Only a mother's heart.
Falling to the snow
The new body,
Warming of those
Who will take the land.

From the walls of fire
Caught in the calendar,
From mountain trails
Whatever the path, then the coffin.
From hot words
What did not write home,
From vivid dreams
And I raised my voice.

From the walls of fire
Caught in the calendar,
From mountain trails
Whatever the path, then the coffin.
From hot words
What did not write home,
From vivid dreams
And I raised my voice.