Once upon a time there lived
a brave and handsome soldier,
but he was just a children's toy,
for he was just a paper soldier.
He would have liked to change the world
so everyone would be happy,
but he always hung on a thread,
for he was just a paper soldier.
He would have been glad in fire and smoke
to die for you twice over,
but you could only laugh at him,
for he was just a paper soldier.
You never did confide in him
your most important secrets.
But why? Just because
he was a paper soldier.
But he, cursing his destiny,
didn't crave a peaceful life,
and always begged for gunfire and flames,
forgetting he was a paper soldier.
Into the fire? OK then, go! You're going?
And he took one step forward;
and there he perished all for naught,
for he was just a paper solder...
Bulat Shalvovich Okudzhava, 1959
