A Soldier Song.

Written by David Samoylov.

Ah, thou field, ah, thou field!
Ah, thou field, ah, thou field!
And what is growing on the field?
There is nothing but the weed.

And what is whistling o’er the field,
And what is whistling o’er the field?
The balls are whistling o’er the field —

The bullets and the shells.

And who are going cross the field?

The plucky martial men.

These men are going cross the field

As strongly as atilt,

But then they’ll snuggle up to the field

With their cold cheeks.

But then they’ll snuggle up to the field

With their cold cheeks.

And what’ll be later on the field,
And what’ll be later on the field?
There’ll be nothing but the weed,
There’ll be nothing but the weed...

Between 1955 and 1958.