| The wagon trains are carried away from the noisy city,
|
| Hurry, hurry. |
| I am driving in one of them
|
| To a world that is more precious than gold, back to life.
|
| Where I first met love;
|
| Where are the first important books.
|
| Where they look from albums, as if from dreams,
|
| Boys, boys, boys.
|
| Chorus:
|
| Small Motherland - summer dreams of birches,
|
| What were my height, I dreamed as a boy
|
| Here to reach the stars. |
| Stars, as in a distant dream,
|
| Life has thrown on my shoulder.
|
| Small Motherland - the smell of careless years.
|
| Only a trace of memory, there is no ford,
|
| And don't buy a ticket back.
|
| There is only you, little Motherland.
|
| Eight minutes from the station, a couple of streets - and I'm at home.
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| I'm almost running; |
| And into the blue sky with joy
|
| My soul is torn, seconds burn.
|
| Here lived a friend Sasha,
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| And here, Mishka is an enemy!
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| Here is a girl named Katya.
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| Porch, hello, mom,
|
| And Dad, how are you? |
| Ah something
|
| You began to give up, Dad!
|
| Chorus:
|
| Small Motherland - summer dreams of birches,
|
| What were my height, I dreamed as a boy
|
| Here to reach the stars. |
| Stars, as in a distant dream,
|
| Life has thrown on my shoulder.
|
| Small Motherland - the smell of careless years.
|
| Only a trace of memory, there is no ford,
|
| And don't buy a ticket back.
|
| There is only you, little Motherland.
|
| Small Motherland! |