Афганская вьюга [Afganskaya v'yuga] [English translation]

An evil blizzard got up and blew into Kabul children's faces

Blinded the soldiers who had known cold and scorcher

They had better be together but

One half are going crazy, the other one are fighting

While the best ones have long been in the best of worlds

Quietly sleeping in their dead dream

This is what life is like

We said good-bye in Hairatan, pledged and promised

To cherish our lives and never touch the barrels

If only I had been aware of those who later betrayed us

I would have never given up my AKS to anybody

Sevastopol became like Khost to us

The White House like burning Panjshir

And here, in Grozny, I was fired at

By my officer I had liked so much there*

And the sister's earrings were torn off

So breezily without hinder thoughts

By he who had dug the ground with me

To entrench ourselves in Rukha

By he who had dug the ground with me

To entrench ourselves in Rukha

In its dance the blizzard fetters Afghans' legs and arms

Faster and faster is the Satan's tune being caught up by a shuravi

The wind is heart-breaking but God doesn't brand rogues

He who flung us into cold is now in warmth and honour

The flame of Transnistria War

Was born out of the Afghan fire

And Afghan dreams come to

Both shores of the Dniestr

A Cossack was being buried by Rostov

And the mother was cursing the killer

Yes, he's guilty but one at one hundred

There are others to blame as well

Yes, he's guilty but one at one hundred

There are others to blame as well

Hey, you, brothers in arms, those are wrecked and those who wear stripes

Is it that you've forgotten your friends killed by your own country?

And once again, out of a new pack a card-sharper casts nations

But not as aces but sixes you are received on the loo-table

Kulebiaka of 15 layers

And each one has those who have been over the river

What do you think you're doing, Goodness gracious

Why don't you wash down blood from your snow-white fangs?

Ah, what a spring it is in Firuza

Ah, what a spring it used to be

I wish I could go there again to meet my friends

Those who our conscience didn't pull us apart with

I wish I could go there again to meet my friends

Those who our conscience didn't pull us apart with

Ah, what a spring it is in Firuza

Ah, what a spring it used to be

• Artist:Alexander Rozenbaum