| Horses roamed on the Don, on the Don,
|
| And the fire warmed their sides.
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| A scattering of stars in the sky, and I grew together with a bay,
|
| Stirrups in height, yes, do not press the bow.
|
| A scattering of stars in the sky, and I grew together with a bay,
|
| Stirrups in height, yes, do not press the bow.
|
| On the Don, on the Don, the steppe is drowning in wormwood,
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| The wind drives the clouds, the clouds are clouds.
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| A free Cossack woman is crying over the river,
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| Apparently, not otherwise, he loves the Cossack.
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| Chorus:
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| Quiet tears to the Quiet Don, Cossack share, dashing service.
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| The waters of the Don would become salty if they stood in place for centuries.
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| Quiet tears to the Quiet Don, not to see the son's mother for a long time.
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| No matter how fast the gray-haired father is, the tears will quietly slide onto the stubble.
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| On the Don, on the Don, like a flower in a bud,
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| The girl is full of her beauty.
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| Happiness would bloom, petals open,
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| Yes, one cannot sleep in the hard times of days.
|
| Chorus:
|
| Quiet tears to the Quiet Don, Cossack share, dashing service.
|
| The waters of the Don would become salty if they stood in place for centuries.
|
| Quiet tears to the Quiet Don, not to see the son's mother for a long time.
|
| No matter how fast the gray-haired father is, the tears will quietly slide onto the stubble.
|
| Horses roamed on the Don, on the Don,
|
| And the fire warmed their sides.
|
| A scattering of stars in the sky, and I grew together with a bay,
|
| Stirrups in height, yes, do not press the bow.
|
| A scattering of stars in the sky, and I grew together with a bay,
|
| Stirrups in height, yes, do not press the bow. |