Pora domoi leonid a gut in biography

In the evenings sadness finds us sometimes, sometimes

The Heart aches, and just wants to go home, go home

Wind is blowing over the barracks

The tracks of our armoured carrier are rattling

Home, its time to go home

The wind will be howling over the barracks

The tracks of our armoured carrier will be rattling

Home, its time to go home

Its better for the young ones to love, not to fight and kill

To hold a young girl's hand instead of a rifle's handrail

The shrill whistling of the bullets

My kalashnikov is rattling contemptuously

And i just spit, spit on everything

The shrill whistling of the bullets

My kalashnikov is rattling contemptuously

And i just spit, spit on everything

We boys again hope that this will be the last skirmish

All waiting for the order to go home, go home

The doves will be cooing happily

And the air will taste so sweet

Home, its time to go home

The doves will be cooing happily

And the a