And one more, this one's in Russian: "The enemies burnt down the hut where he was born, and killed his entire family"
English translation
The enemies burnt down the hut where he was born,
And they killed his entire family.
Where can the soldier go now,
And who will carry his sorrow?
The soldier went off in a heavy despair
To the intersection of two roads,
And in a wide open field the soldier found
An overgrown mound in the grass.
The soldier stood and felt like a lump
Was stuck in his throat.
The soldier said: "Praskovia, meet
Your hero-husband.
Prepare a meal for the guest,
And cover a wide table in the hut.
He has come to you to celebrate
His day, his return.
No one answered the soldier,
And no one came to greet him.
Only a warm summer breeze
Rustled the grass at the grave.
The soldier sighed and fixed his belt
And opened his traveling bag,
He put a bottle of "bitters"
On the gray gravestone.
"Don't judge me harshly, Praskovia,
For coming to you like this.
I wanted to drink to your health,
But I must drink to your death.
Friends and girlfriends will come again,
But we shall never be together again."
And the soldier drank from the copper cup
A bitter mixture of wine and grief.
He drank, the soldier - the servant of the people -
And with pain in his heart he said:
"I spent four years coming to you,
And I won three medals!"
The soldier was overcome with emotion, and the tears flowed,
Tears of hope that never came true.
And on his chest shone the medal
For taking the city of Budapest.