| The wind brought to the stone city
|
| Bitter wormwood breath.
|
| And so excites the soul to tears
|
| An old memory.
|
| It's like I'm throwing my arms around,
|
| Grass, rain, pain, take away.
|
| Wind from the fields, the noise of birches
|
| Heal my soul.
|
| Wind from the fields, the noise of birches
|
| Heal my soul.
|
| There, among the Russian fields
|
| Breathe freely to the heart,
|
| There I resurrected my soul,
|
| Under the vault of clear skies.
|
| Mother, father and relatives
|
| They christened me there.
|
| Even a prayer is heard
|
| There among the Russian fields.
|
| And at the chapel, where it's cold,
|
| One flame is smoldering.
|
| I put a flower to those who have fallen for the faith,
|
| My modest scarlet flower.
|
| Everything here is holy to me to the point of pain, to tears.
|
| Grass, rain, pain, take away.
|
| Wind from the fields, the noise of birches
|
| Heal my soul.
|
| Wind from the fields, the noise of birches
|
| Heal my soul.
|
| There, among the Russian fields
|
| Breathe freely to the heart,
|
| There I resurrected my soul,
|
| Under the vault of clear skies.
|
| Mother, father and relatives
|
| They christened me there.
|
| Even a prayer is heard
|
| There among the Russian fields.
|
| Everything here is holy to me to the point of pain, to tears.
|
| Grass, rain, pain, take away.
|
| Wind from the fields, the noise of birches
|
| Heal my soul.
|
| Wind from the fields, the noise of birches
|
| Heal my soul.
|
| There, among the Russian fields
|
| Breathe freely to the heart,
|
| There I resurrected my soul,
|
| Under the vault of clear skies.
|
| Mother, father and relatives
|
| They christened me there.
|
| Even a prayer is heard
|
| There among the Russian fields.
|
| Even a prayer is heard
|
| There among the Russian fields. |