Morning on the mountain, cold upon the stone
Poplars standin' sentry where the old men sleep alone
The war had come back hungry and it took her every son
Three letters in a drawer, and a white mare left to runRed flags on the market and the rifles in a row
A boy from Leningrad, sixteen, with nowhere else to go
One word she didn't answer, one shot the sparrows heard
And the poplar down came falling like a snow without a word
Blood upon the cobbles, steam upon the hide
The mare that pulled her apples lying broken on her side
And the widow in the roadway with her black scarf round her head
Singin' to the white mare like a cradle for the dead
Shoulder after shoulder, hand after hand
A thousand silent fathers standin' where the widow stands
Bread in every pocket and a stone in every fist
And the iron in the mornin' and the moon behind the mist
Trains toward the winter, smoke across the plain
Fathers in the boxcars and their names washed out with rain
The papers in the gutter say it never came to pass
But there's a white mare grazin' in the churchyard grass
CHORUS:
Leave the widow's horse alone
Leave the widow's horse alone
Beka says: very sad song, no chorus, just the guitar. Kök Bel version (Jesir Aty) is also very good