No crosses are placed on the brotherly graves, And here no widows are mourning. Some only bring flowers to honor the place, And keep the Eternal flames burning. This earth used to spurt and abandon its sleighs, But now it just sleeps in the sun. And here there are no individual fates - All fates have grown into one.

На братских могилах не ставят крестов, и жены на них не рыдают.

— Сережа

No mourning widows come to this place - The people who come here are tougher. No crosses are placed on the brotherly graves, But how can that bring any comfort?...

Мои друзья лежат в могилах братских. Нам не забыть родные имена. Во имя вдов и матерей солдатских, Фронтовики, Наденьте ордена!

Fresh flowers on my grave My favorite white lilies You put an end to me, but I'm more alive than you Fate has no line on my hand.