The weak branch bends to the ground
Song
1. The branch is weak, it bends to the ground, ; If I cry, it dies far away. ; Even then, only that comes to mind, ; You will no longer sit on my lap, my rose. ; ; 2. Why do they sew me linen trousers, ; If they write my name as a soldier. ; If they cut me, it will heal my wound, ; If I die, they will bury me in it. ; ; 3. I drink good wine to my heart's content, ; I reach into my pocket bitterly. ; There is neither a banknote nor a penny in it, ; Yet the tsar's wife is full.