� Sometimes it seems to me that the soldiers Who did not come from the blood Did not all go to the moon one day But turned into white cranes They have been flying since those times They fly and give us voices Sometimes the pain is so often and sad We are silent, looking at the sky � The horse flies in the long, tired Flies in the fog at the end of the day And in that land there is a gap as small After all, maybe this is a place for me The day will come and the cranes will stand I will swim in the same gray fog And from the sky like a bird I will fly away, leaving all of you on the ground Sometimes it seems to me that the soldiers Who did not come from the blood Did not all go to the moon one day But turned into white cranes � �