| He wore it on his hands and rode it on a bike,
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| He gave me a dress, like an announcer on a telly.
|
| I plucked the stars from the sky in long garlands,
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| He collected malachites with rubies in the mountains.
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| From the taiga he wore sables with martens,
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| I looked at you without blinking my eyelashes
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| You turned out without shame, without conscience
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| She ran away with the boy from the Moscow region.
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| Capercaillie behind the Sayans will wake the dawn with a song,
|
| The sun-brother will rise over the river mists.
|
| I give you the beauty of these fabulous mountains,
|
| Remember the smell of eternal forests and snowstorms with snowstorms.
|
| The sky does not sleep either, the sky also weeps.
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| The stars are falling down - they miss you
|
| Only the gray taiga will be a true friend,
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| And sadness and longing - from east to south.
|
| Capercaillie behind the Sayans will wake the dawn with a song,
|
| The sun-brother will rise over the river mists.
|
| I give you the beauty of these fabulous mountains,
|
| Remember the smell of eternal forests and snowstorms with snowstorms.
|
| Capercaillie behind the Sayans will wake the dawn with a song,
|
| The sun-brother will rise over the river mists.
|
| I give you the beauty of these fabulous mountains,
|
| Remember the smell of eternal forests and snowstorms with snowstorms.
|
| Remember the smell of eternal forests and snowstorms with snowstorms.
|
| Remember the smell of eternal forests and snowstorms with snowstorms... |