there are dense traffic jams on the flooded roads, with pedestrians wading through knee-deep fords. right now on our channel there is a festive concert of the victory song, an outstanding world -famous singer, famous opera singer, ildar abdorzakov, performs well-known and beloved songs of the war years. this is the main news at this hour? i, maria sittal, thank you for your attention, have a good weekend , see you tomorrow. you sleeplessly toss and turn all night with your old pillows and wake up completely exhausted and stressed, now it's over, introducing the drimalina swan pillow, a comfortable lounging pillow that hugs your entire body and optimally aligns it so you experience the best sleep of your life. the unique shape of the dremaliina swan pillow offers seven comfort zones. that

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pristina. i don't need you here, and i will cut you to the last. there are about 100 in the world people, there are eight of us here. we didn’t fight to the death, but i’m glad that we’re all together, we’ll live, fulfilling our duty, in the name of russia, our situation is shitty, we’ll probably live until the morning, 10 percent, but we’ve been given the task of holding the airport, so we’ll keep it safe, balkan frontier, today on rtr. dear friends, on the air of the russia tv channel there is a festive concert dedicated to victory day,

the stage of the russian national youth symphony orchestra, conductor alexey. ruben. state academic choir chapel named after yurlov. state academic russian choir named after sveshnikov. artistic director of the groups, people's artist of russia, gennady dmitryak. honored artist. apple and pear trees were blooming, fogs floated over

the river, katyushka came ashore, onto a high bank on a steep one. be sure to go out on a high day on a cool day, go out with a song and start a song on a steppe gray eagle before the one whom she loved for that, and took care of the letters about the one whom she loved, the letters go away song song. say hello from katyusha, you are not a protector of moise, say hello from katyusha, let him

let him remember a simple girl, let him hear her sing, let him take care of his native land, and love... dear friends, i congratulate you on the great

holiday, on victory day! i want to invite my colleague, my friend, to this stage, this is a wonderful musician, a kura player, this is a folk musical instrument of bashkiria, robert yuldashev.

oh the roads, the dust and the fog, the cold trails, and the steppe storms, you don’t know... you can

share the pile, you can fold the wings, after the steppe, the dust beats down on your boots. fields, forests, and all around the flames are raging to the point of a bullet, oh, roads, dust and dust... fog, cold, anxiety,

and the steppe weeds, a shot thunders, the city spins, oh, god lies lifeless in the weeds, and the road rushes on, pours out, muddles, all around the earth smokes, a foreign land.

and oh, horns, dust and fog, alarming cold, and steppe storm.

praise the alarm to the steppe buryan. jie. christ sing, look, try the roads of the forest, ko

sa chrisnya. let’s sing, friends, because tomorrow we’ll go hiking, we’ll go into the pre-dawn fog, we’ll sing more joyfully. let

the battle captain sing along to us, goodbye beloved short, we are leaving for the sea tomorrow. tyranny sometimes, behind karma, the familiar blue scarf turns white, and the evening is again so good that

we can’t help but sing songs. about great friendship, about naval service, let's make friends more friendly, a simple beloved city, we take care of. in the sea, and the early couple will peck for karma, a familiar scarf, blue!

and an early thief, a familiar blue scarf will lie down astern, silence fell on the large roadstead, and... the sea is shrouded in fog and the wave kisses the native shore, and the button accordion quietly carries, goodbye beloved city... we're leaving for

the sea tomorrow, and early pair velknet for carva familiar blue scarf, ask for your favorite city. let's go into the sea tomorrow, and early, sometimes, a familiar blue scarf will flash behind the stern.

thank you, there are clouds on granite. the region is surrounded by harsh kisina, on the high banks of the amur river, the sentry homelands stand, mulberries.

strong, there stands a brave village, at the borders of the far eastern land, an armored shock battalion, ukrainian, impossible, an armored shock battalion, songs live there in that chaos. an indestructible friendly family, three tankers, three cheerful friends, the crew of a combat vehicle, rest, crew, dew lay on the grass thick, the fogs lay wide, that night the samurai decided, and the border of the raid, this night was decided to be buried, cross the border of the river, but

the dawn imposed exactly, he went digging, along his native land, the far east, a pro-nev strike battalion, along his native land , a waxy land, a prodiva where. the tanks took over, raising the wind, a formidable armor advanced, and the samurai flew to the ground, under a set of steel and fire, the winds of our samurai on mine.

and the song was the guarantee of all the enemies in the fire attack, three tampists, three cheerful friends, the crew of a combat vehicle.

it’s a dark night, only bullets whistle across the steppe, only the wind hums in the wires, the stars twinkle dimly. on this dark night, my beloved, i know you are not sleeping, and in the crib you secretly wipe away a tear as i love. the depth of your tender eyes, how i want to press

my lips to them now, the dark night is shared by our beloved and anxiously. where the black steppe lies between us, i believe in you, my dear friend, this faith kept me from a bullet on a dark night. i am happy, i am calm, in mortal combat,

i know you will meet me. with love to me, whatever it didn’t happen to me, death is not scary, we met it more than once on the road, and now it’s circling over me. you are waiting for me, you don’t sleep by the crib, so i know nothing will happen to me.

you are waiting for me, and you are not sleeping in the crib, so i know nothing will happen to me, so i know.

we are friends, migratory birds, but it’s not good to be one of us, we didn’t have time to get married on earth, you won’t find a wife in the sky, because we are pilots, the sky is ours, the sky is ours, our home, first of all, first of all, airplanes, and girls , a girls then, first of all, first of all , planes, well, girls, and girls then, a tender image of dreams, you will cherish, you want to give your hearts forever, today you will meet, you will see, you will fall in love, tomorrow the order is to fly away,

because, because we drank. o you, our sky, our sky, dear home, first of all, first of all, planes, and girls, and girls then, business, business of planes, well, girls, so that we don’t meet with longing on the way, remembering the affectionate look, we friends decided not to fall in love. even the most beautiful girls, because we are pilots, the sky is from the sky, our dear home, first of all, first of all the planes, and then the girls, and the girls then, white white, first of all the planes, well, from the girl, from the girl then, thank you, thank you.

there are only a few names left of the heroes of bygone times, those who took the fight to the death. became

just earth and grass, only menacing valor. settled in the hearts of the living, we keep this eternal flame, bequeathed to us alone, in our chests, look at my fighters. “the whole world remembers their faces, now the battalion is frozen in formation, many old friends are recognized, even though

i’m twenty-five, the hard way.

there is no family in russia where its hero is not remembered, and the eyes of young soldiers are stark from photographs. they are looked at, this look is like the highest court, for the children who are now growing up, and

as a boy it is impossible to lie, deceive, or turn back. don’t think down on the seconds, the time will come, you will understand, they probably whistle like bullets at

your temple, moments, moments, moments, moments. compressed into years, moments compressed into centuries, and sometimes i don’t understand where the first moment is, where the last is, each moment has its own reason, its own bells, their own mark... moments hand out, to whom shame, to whom infamy, and to whom immortality, from tiny moments hundreds

of rains, ordinary water flows from heaven, and sometimes you wait almost half your life for... your moment will come, it will come it is big, like a sip, a piece of water in time. but i’m a summer boy, in general, you just need to remember your duty, from the first moment to the last, don’t think down on the seconds, the time will come, you’ll understand, they probably whistle like bullets in a meska. moments, moments, moments,

moments. i ask, at least not for long, my pain, leave me, cloud. bluish clouds for them, you fly to

your home, from here to your home, my shore, appear in the distance, the edge of a thin line, my shore. sweet pepper, oh dear, i wish i could swim, swim, if only someday, somewhere far away, somewhere far away, mushroom rains are falling, right by the river in a small garden, ripened cherries, bending to the ground, somewhere far away in my memory... hey, now, like in childhood, it’s warm, even though the memory is covered,

with such big snow, play, let’s give me a drink, to drunkenness, but not to death, here again, for the last time, i keep looking somewhere into the sky, as if i still have an answer.

i ask, at least not for long, my pain, leave me, clouds, blue clouds, fly to your home, from here to your home, bravo!

the birds don't sing here. trees don’t grow, we just grow shoulder to shoulder into... the earth here, the planet is spinning on fire, there’s smoke above our homeland, and that means we need one victory,

we won’t stand up for the price of one for all, we won’t stand for one for all of us... we won’t stand like a wall, a deadly fire will enter us, but it’s still powerless, doubt goes away into the night, a separate, tenth of our airborne battalion, our tenth airborne battalion, barely a fire, another order sounds, the postman will come down the soular, looking for us, a red rocket flies, the machine gun hits tirelessly, that means we need one victory, one

for all of us we won’t stand for the price, we alone won’t stand for all of us , lethal fire awaits us, it is still powerless, doubt goes away into the night, separate, our tenth, tenth battalion, our tenth tenth battalion, kotpur eagle, war on... and before the most hostile breeds are such brother things, someday we will remember this, and we won’t believe it ourselves, but now we need one victory,

we won’t stand up for the price for everyone, we won’t stand for the price for everyone, it’s just mortal fire, still he is powerless, no doubt he would not mind leaving into the night, our separate, tenth landing.

one summer at dawn i looked into a neighboring garden, there was a dark-skinned moldavian woman picking grapes, i was blushing, i was turning pale, i wanted to tell her, let’s stand over the river and greet the summer dawns. once curly, green maple, leaf carved, i am embarrassed in love before you, green maple, curly declun, yes, curly, carved, i am curly, green,

carved, i am in love, tempted by the hallway, noren, once uyaly. dark-skinned, moldovan, vlad answered the guy, partisan, moldovan, we are gathering a detachment, it’s early today, the partisans have left their home, the road to the partisans awaits you. thick, colorful, green maple, leafy, there is a maple here, we will part. with you there is a green maple and a curly maple, and since the curly ones are carved, here is

superyona, we will part with you, curly ones, the starry, scared moldovan woman walked along the path into the forest, i saw the insult that i didn’t invite myself, because of the dark-skinned moldovan woman, i often thought at night, suddenly i met my dark-skinned girl in the detachment, with curly hair.

it seems to me, sometimes, that the soldiers who came from the bloody field did not die in our land, but turned into whites. in the crane, they still, from those distant times, fly

and give us voices, that’s not why it’s so often sad, we fall silent, looking at them. heaven, flies, flies across the sky, a tired wedge, flies in the fog towards the end. day, in that land there is period of maala, maybe this is the place for

me, the day will come from a flock of cranes, i will swim in the same earth, from under the heavens under the birds i will call out to all of you whom i left on earth, it seems to me sometimes that the soldiers, from the bloody,

non-arrivers. they didn’t die in our land, once upon a time, but turned into white cranes,

which is where the homeland begins, from the picture in your primer, from the good and faithful comrades living in the neighboring yard, it will help... it begins with the song that she sang to us mother, because in any trials, we have no one take away where the homeland begins, the cherished

bench dodge. from that very birch tree that grows in the field, bending in the wind, or maybe it begins with the spring song of a starling, from this country road, which has no end in sight. where does the homeland begin, from the windows burning in the distance, from my father’s old bottle bottle that we found somewhere in the closet, or maybe it

begins with... a thing of carriage wheels, from the oath that in your youth you took to her in your heart, where does the homeland begin? the city above the free neva, the city of our glory. you

labor, listen, leningrad, i’ll sing to you for my soulful song, listen, leningrad, i ’ll sing to you for my soulful song, i passed here. yes, friends, kamsomol youth, mine, the birthplace, with a young song, peers walked next to me, the birthplace, with a young song, peers walked next to me.

from this time of fire, wherever we meet you, old friends, i recognize you, my restless youth, old friends, you... i recognize my sandy youth, the song flies over the neva, falls asleep in the working city, in

the parks and gardens there are linden trees flattering, good night, native leningrad. in the parks and gardens the linden trees rustle good night, dear leningrad. thank you, i love

your life, which in itself is not new, i love your life, i... love you again again, now the windows are lit up, i’m walking home from work tired, i love your life, and i want, so that you can become better, i have been given a lot, the vastness of the earth and... the long time of the sea, i know, long ago, selfless male friendship, in the ringing

of every day, how happy i am that i have no peace, i have love, life, you know what is it, call every day like me i’m happy that i have no peace, i have love, life, you know what it is, as the nightingales sing in the twilight, kiss at dawn and finish. sino of love, this is a miracle, great children, again we will go through childhood, youth,

train stations, piers, there will be grandchildren, then everything will repeat again from the beginning, oh, how the years fly. we are sad in our gray hairs, noticing, remember life, soldier, who will die defending you, so stick and turn, in the trumpet sounds of the spring anthem, i love you life, i hope that this is... mutually, so cheer and turn, trumpets dry spring anthem, i love you life i hope

it's mutual. not even a rustle can be heard in the garden, everything here froze until the morning, if you knew how dear the evenings near moscow are to me. if you only knew

how dear i am to the evenings near moscow, the river moves and does not move, all made of... lunar silver, the song is heard and not heard, these quiet evenings, the song is heard and not heard on these quiet ones. evening,

why are you, dear, looking out of your eyes, bowing your head low, it’s difficult to speak out and not to speak out. everything that is in my heart is difficult to express, and it is not possible to express everything that is on heart, i have, and the dawn is already over...

no, no, so please, please, don’t forget , five-year-old evenings near moscow, don’t forget , these-year-olds. evenings near moscow, thank you, thank you. i

’ve walked around the world a lot, lived in dugouts, in digs, in secret, was buried alive twice, lived in separation, loved in melancholy, but i’m used to being proud of moscow, everywhere. i repeated the words, my dear capital, my golden moscow, my dear capital, my golden moscow, i love the moscow region. groves and bridges

over your river, i love your red square the kremlin chimes strike, in cities and distant villages, the rumors for you will not cease, my dear capital, my golden moscow. my golden moscow. we will remember the harsh fall. grinding there is a pilot without a shirt. and

bougie hearts 28. for robbing my sons. ragu will never get your head to bow, my dear capital, my golden moscow, the enemy will never get your head to bow, my dear capital,

the second. and the sunset burned with her. there were only three of us left. of the 18 they lose, how many of their friends, good ones, are left lying in darkness. near an unfamiliar village on a nameless height, near an unfamiliar village on a nameless

height, a pada was glowing. i am a rocket, like a burnt-out star, whoever has seen this at least once will never forget, he will not forget, he will not forget, the furious attacks of an unfamiliar village on a nameless height, near an unfamiliar village on a nameless height, the men

were circling above us, their... you can see it as if during the day, but we only became stronger friends, under the crossfire, and no matter how difficult it was, you were true to your dream, near an unfamiliar village on a nameless you... near an unfamiliar village at a nameless height, i often dream of those guys, friends

of my war days, our dugout at three. rolling, a pine tree burned over it, as if again we were standing with them on the fiery line, near an unfamiliar village at a nameless height, near an unfamiliar one. the village is at an unnamed height.

do not forget the terrible years when the polish water boiled. lya sank in the fury of fire, and there was neither night nor day, we fought along

the banks of the volga, divisions of enemies were marching on the volga, but our great soldier survived, but he survived immortal stalingrad, let us bow. to all those who must not be forgotten,

let us bow down, let us bow down, friends, with the whole world, all the people, the whole earth, let us bow down for that great god. we closed a ring around the enemies, we lashed out with anger in their faces, february, the russian shroud of snow, aimed, aimed for the enemy regiments, that great mortal battle is over, the world is turning blue into the sky above you, above our eternal mother river, above the glorious soldier. let us bow to those

vyaliks, those glorious commanders and soldiers and marshals of the country and privates. let's bow and to the dead and the living, to all those who must not be forgotten, let us bow, bow, friends, bow in the great darkness. to the glorious commander and fighters, and to the marshals of the country and

privates, let us bow to both the dead and the living, we are ready to say nothing to everyone. let us bow, let us bow, friends, with the whole world, with all peoples, with the whole earth, let us bow for that great battle, peace with all, with all. people of the whole earth,

let us bow to the eclipse. and now, let's sing together the main song, everyone's favorite song, victory day!

victory day, how far it was from us, how an ember was melting in the fire, there were bursts, scorched in the dust, we brought this day closer as best we could, this day of victory, lost to the enemy, this is a holiday, light in the places, this time. joy with tears in the eyes, because victories, the day of victory, the day of victory,

days and nights at the open-hearth furnaces, our homeland did not close its eyes, days and nights, we fought a difficult battle, we brought this day closer as best we could, this day of victory was lost in vain, this is a holiday, gray hairs in places, this is... joy with tears in the eyes, victory day, victory day, victory day!