Music by V. Agapkin
Performing D. Garipova
Equirhythmic translationd by Em Rostverg
Our parting is quickly approaching;
You look anxiously into my eyes.
And I sense your so dear breathing,
Though the storm is already at hand.
A tremor ran through the blue, misty air,
And anxiety touched our temples,
This is Russia is calling to a feat,
So, the wind blows when regiments pass.
Farewell, native land,
You, please, remember us.
Farewell, your dear glance,
Not all of us will come back.
Farewell, native land,
You, please, remember us.
Farewell, your dear glance,
Not all of us will come back.