| In the night, from the hill
|
| Creeping shadows, cold caress
|
| On your face, hit the ground
|
| And feel the blaze
|
| One of all, young and scared
|
| In a nameless tale to write
|
| By my type, where do I begin
|
| Thrust into you
|
| The splinters of life
|
| Fading away, lost in your mind
|
| On Pulkovo Meridian
|
| Bleeding on you
|
| The tears of the crown
|
| Fading away, lost in your fears
|
| On Pulkovo Meridian
|
| Now, call your name, on this page
|
| But no answer from the hill
|
| What’s the time right to die…
|
| And wrong to live
|
| By your eyes, as you die
|
| Why so shining Leningrad
|
| Final breath, why do I begin
|
| Thrust into you
|
| The splinters of life
|
| Fading away, lost in your mind
|
| On Pulkovo Meridian
|
| Bleeding on you
|
| The tears of the crown
|
| Fading away, lost in your fears
|
| On Pulkovo Meridian
|
| Higher, higher to hill, higher to God, higher to live…
|
| Night is falling
|
| Keep defending, keep on save the children of Motherland
|
| Night is falling
|
| Keep defending, keep on save the children of Motherland
|
| In the night, in the cold
|
| Creeping shadows from my back
|
| On this type, hit the page
|
| And feel the blaze
|
| From my soul, to my hands
|
| In a nameless tale to write |