Wait for me and I’ll return, Wait, despite all pain. Wait when sorrow, chill and stern, Follow yellow rain. Wait through storms of whirling snow. Wait through heat and sweat. Wait when others do not know How not to forget. Wait when no word reaches you From so far away. Wait when others who were true Cease to wait one day. Wait for me and I’ll return. Wait when doubts beset Those who show, too soon, concern, Saying—Now forget! Let my mother and my son Hope until they tire. Let friends say my course is run. Gathered round the fire Let them toast in bitter wine, Trusting grief will pass. When they drink, those friends of mine, Do not raise your glass. Wait for me and I’ll return, Spiting death and hate. Let the ones who did not yearn Say I’m saved by Fate. They don’t know, they cannot tell How your faith so sure Saved me from that fiery hell, Led me back once more. Why I lived and did not fall, We two know that best— Waiting, you had faith, that’s all, stronger than the rest.

The Nazis burnt his home to ashes, His family they murdered there, Where shall the soldier home from battle Go now, to whom his sorrow bear? He stood with tears of sorrow welling And scarcely able breath to draw He said: “Praskovya dear, come welcome Your hero-husband back from war”. But in reply there came no answer, No welcome for the soldier brave. Only a breeze that way came glancing And stirred the grass upon the grave... He paused a while, his belt he strengthened, And, from the kitbag at his side A flask of bitter vodka taking, He placed it on her grave and sighed. The soldier drank and wept for many A broken dream, while on his chest There shone a newly-minted medal For liberating Budapest...

Ответ на комментарий # Ух ты! Спасибо.

последнего куплета не хватает, оканчивающегося строками: You`ll be a man, my son!