River mist was rising all around.
|: Young Katiusha went strolling by the hour
On the steep banks, o'er the rocky ground. :|
By the river's bank she sang a love song
Of her hero in a distant land,
|: Of the one she'd dearly loved for so long,
Holding tight his letters in her hand. :|
The apple trees are blooming,|
and Katjusha is walking out to the river
[to fetch two buckets of water, I am afraid].
Merrily and brightly she is singing:
Her sweetheart has sent her a letter from the front
were he is defending their home.
Fresh song, on the wings of the grey eagle of the steppe
fly to her fiance and bring him Katjusha´s song.
Bring him her love and her thanks
and her hope for a peaceful future together.
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