Охота на кабанов

Dirt today still impassable ,
Scum on top , like a god without pants -
To hell with the rain - the hunters feast :
They are now shoot wild boar.

Beat into the bucket and drove to the swamp ,
Wet wiping their foreheads ,
Despised forest gilt ,
Worshipping the excitement of firing .

Rangers for bloodlust not kick,
You hunters wear on their hands -
We love boar meat in the carbonate ,
Adore boar in hams.

Kabanov did not disturb the thought :
Why and for what, as a prisoner -
Boars escaped from the noise ,
To find peace forever .

Flying out of guns Jacques
Indiscriminately smashing , at random -
Though happily beat the drums
Fighting Pioneer unit .

Rangers for bloodlust not kick,
You hunters wear on their hands -
We love boar meat in the carbonate ,
Adore boar in hams.

Noise, fire and stew of cans ,
And the & quot; hunting & quot; vodka - on the table.
Just crawled prismirevshy podranok ,
Spellbound looking at the trunk.

And then - alcohol splashed in the canister ,
Slept excitement, though the battle was won :
Carried a wounded animal polcherepa shot -
And the horn sounded the retreat.

Rangers for bloodlust not kick,
You hunters wear on their hands -
We love boar meat in the carbonate ,
Adore boar in hams.

I was told they are about hunting ,
Above angle carcass twirling :
& quot; Stoskovalis we can see on the front -
Attacks on , and on deaths.

It's like we're back in the infantry,
It's like we are again - with hostility ,
This soul is withdrawn in the hunt
Surviving veterans ... & quot;

Rangers for bloodlust not kick,
You hunters wear on their hands -
We love boar meat in the carbonate ,
Adore boar in hams.