The soldier is 12 years old
At the monument to the Grenadiers
In the sun or in bad weather,
Surrounded by lush foliage,
a soldier of the twelfth year
It stands above the old pavement.
And the soldier's gaze is not cheerful,
He is oppressed by a tight sadness…
They came from here once
To the battle for Holy Russia.
And now the pain is in a vise,
After all, it is impossible to understand who is the enemy, who is the friend…
The townspeople are stupefied here –
The Russian spirit is being killed here.
And people, having turned into a herd,
are committing outrages across the country…
He looks into the distance with a doomed look
A soldier deprived of his homeland.