[] Черный крест на груди итальянца, Ни резьбы,...

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Black cross on the chest of the Italian,
No thread, no pattern, no gloss, -
A poor family stored
And the only son wears ...

A young native of Naples!
What left you in Russia on the field?
Why couldn't you be happy
Over native famous bay?

I who killed you under Mozdok,
So dreamed of a distant volcano!
How I dreamed on the Volga coast
At least once a ride in a gondola!

But I did not come with a gun
Take away the Italian summer
But my bullets did not whistle
Over the sacred land of Raphael!

Here I shot! Here, where was born,
Where he was proud of himself and his friends,
Where epics about our peoples
Never sound in translations.

Is the middle of the Don bend
Foreign scientists studied?
Our land - Russia, Raseyu -
Have you opened and planted?

Not! You brought in echelon
To capture distant colonies,
To cross from the casket from the family
He grew to the size of the grave ...

I will not let my country take out
For the vastness of the foreign seas!
I shoot - and there is no justice
More fair than my bullet!

You have never lived here and never been! ..
But scattered in the snow fields
Italian blue sky
Glazed in the dead eyes ... 1943