Текст песни: Letters + перевод

In ninteenth century Russia we write letters

We write letters

We put down in writing what is happening in our minds

Once it’s on the paper we feel better

We feel better

It’s like some kind of clarity when the letter’s done and signed

Dear Andre

Dear old friend how goes the war

Do we march on the french splendidly?

Do our cannons crack and cry?

Do our bullets whistle and sing?

Does the air reek with smoke?

I wish I were there

With death at my heels

Dolokov is recovering

He will be alright, the good man

Should have been me

I am a most rediculous man

And Natasha is in town

I hear she is more beautiful than ever

How I envy you and your happiness

Here at home I drink and read

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