This march on the platforms wasn’t silent
When the foe clouded the horizon .
our fathers in smoking railcars with it
Were by trains brought to the front.
He preserved Moscow in '41,
In '45 he marched on to Berlin.
He accompanied the soldier to victory
Along the roads of tough years.
And if the country
Calleth us on a campaign
For our native land
We all shall march to sacred war!
Wheat rustleth in the fields,
My Fatherland marcheth
To the heights of joy
Through all misfortunes
On the path of peace and labour.