Игорь Растеряев - Русская дорога (Английская версия)
On crying earth we tread;
Can't feel our boots or bones
Retreating from our enemies, our regiment is toast.
On sorrel leaves we gorge between the fighting zones
And spend our nights in gullies under bushes. Make our homes.
Impossible to rest. Alone we run. Alone
While our pretend friends sit abroad and make us feel disowned.
They're watching our defeat; the battles we have lost.
And only these long roads will have our back, at any cost.
Wipe your tears and rest a little, soldier
For I'm the Russian roadblock.
Just retreat and I'll be covering you
With mud, sticky as glue.