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In the Russian village by the small pond My Chatschele stood, lonely, alone. I will long for you and always think of you Because you were my rodzne, my homeland Marushka Rosia I long so much for you For the birch tree, for Chatschele, for the green wood. Like I long for the Russian songs For the sweet sisters and brothers For Russian people, who are genuine. For Russian people, who are more precious than money. And a storm that has been unleashed on the world People like Chakes one after the other Melkhume, the Not, ordered to k** And burned und crushed money and forests. My Chatschele is burned. I no longer have a homeland. Now I am [illegible] And now I sing for you, Ref Matu...