| Do not go son to the woods, lonely -
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| Tama is an evil bear, Tama is a fierce wolf!
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| Neither the bear nor the wolf is afraid of me.
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| The bear is my uncle, the wolf is my brother.
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| She will wait for you, the child will cry bitterly!
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| Let the wife not shed bitter tears. |
| God help children without a father.
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| To grieve, to shed tears, in the sky there are clouds of crows.
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| Woe, do not grieve and do not cry Mate, what to be - that is not to be avoided.
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| Hey!
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| Barrel for a belt. |
| With me a hundred brothers, to the spikelet spikelet.
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| Barrel by the belt, a fiery wheel overhead.
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| Barrel for a belt. |
| Death mows with a scythe, knits spikelets into a haystack.
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| Barrel by the belt, wash off the blood with white dew.
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| Here, on the outskirts, everyone believes
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| As in truth, there is no heaven.
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| And I do not know how it should be and how it is more correct;
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| I beg you: heart, do not feel - become stone!
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| Hey! |
| The hut is on fire, the temple is on fire.
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| People are sleeping and snoring is heard.
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| Brothers-robbers, the trunk for the belt -
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| And spare consumables.
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| There will be rams, so there will be a massacre,
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| After all, only a warrior knows the pain in the soul.
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| Mother became a widow too soon.
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| War comes, brother, to take what is yours.
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| Which have not be avoided.
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| Executioner to execute me, God have mercy!
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| Shutters on the windows and bolts on the doors,
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| At forty forty, the term came, the trunk by the girdle.
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| Barrel for a belt. |
| With me a hundred brothers, to the spikelet spikelet.
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| Barrel by the belt, a fiery wheel overhead.
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| Barrel for a belt. |
| Death mows with a scythe, knits spikelets into a haystack.
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| Barrel by the belt, wash off the blood with white dew.
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| Eternity calls sons on the way, and this is the Eternal call.
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| Their lives melt like candles in images.
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| Yesterday in a dream I saw death and a forest of crosses.
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| Today it became clear that it was a prophetic dream!
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| The checker hangs down, the head off the shoulders.
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| Stopped, will stop and henceforth the whip will be whipped!
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| There will be five trunks, five trunks.
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| They will sing in chorus a hundred trunks a song, as at a table.
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| Under the hood is a herd of black horses.
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| The herd followed him, a pillar of dust and the earth was on fire.
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| The brothers stood up, as one by one in full growth.
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| Death took hold of the scythe, a fierce mowing began.
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| To the spikelet spikelet, in an open field,
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| Surrounded by black forests.
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| Dad and his brothers fell asleep here with Eternal Sleep,
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| And a hundred sons came to avenge them.
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| Barrel for a belt. |
| With me a hundred brothers, to the spikelet spikelet.
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| Barrel by the belt, a fiery wheel overhead.
|
| Barrel for a belt. |
| Death mows with a scythe, knits spikelets into a haystack.
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| Barrel by the belt, wash off the blood with white dew. |