| There are milk-colored clouds in the sky, everything that I see will be reflected by the river.
|
| A handful of earth is taken by a weak hand by accident.
|
| Somewhere across the river, there, obliquely, right in the meadows, and through the woods,
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| A thin spikelet, a quiet voice sings sadly.
|
| Chorus:
|
| Mother Russia, the tears of heaven are knocking on the windows,
|
| And who do I ask, what awaits me? |
| - are silent.
|
| Mother Russia, the faces of the icons scream to the sky,
|
| And who do I ask, what awaits me? |
| - are silent.
|
| I don’t expect anyone, I don’t expect anything, for my love, for my misfortune.
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| I'm going with you, I'm going with you again, fighting with melancholy.
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| Ashes or bread, tears or salt, what awaits me, joy or pain?
|
| Mother, with you, dear, with you, I will sing again.
|
| Chorus:
|
| Mother Russia, the tears of heaven are knocking on the windows,
|
| And who do I ask, what awaits me? |
| - are silent.
|
| Mother Russia, the faces of the icons scream to the sky,
|
| And who do I ask, what awaits me? |
| - are silent.
|
| Mother Russia, the tears of heaven are knocking on the windows,
|
| And who do I ask, what awaits me? |
| - are silent.
|
| Mother Russia, the faces of the icons scream to the sky,
|
| And who do I ask, what awaits me? |
| - are silent. |