| The old gypsy wondered
|
| The palm stroked my hand,
|
| And in parting she whispered:
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| "You won't see your home,
|
| You will not return to your native land
|
| And you won't see your home."
|
| Chorus:
|
| And I will return to Russia at dawn,
|
| And I will return to my city over the river,
|
| And I will return, even after death,
|
| With a broken heart, with a wounded soul.
|
| And I will return home a saint and a sinner,
|
| Vodka will warm my sick voice,
|
| My soul will cry inconsolably
|
| When I return When I return
|
| I'm in my own home.
|
| I recently had a prophetic dream:
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| Cross over my grave.
|
| And sang to me about the forgotten house
|
| And sang to me about the forgotten house
|
| Chorus:
|
| And I will return to Russia at dawn,
|
| And I will return to my city over the river,
|
| And I will return, even after death,
|
| With a broken heart, with a wounded soul.
|
| And I will return home a saint and a sinner,
|
| Vodka will warm my sick voice,
|
| My soul will cry inconsolably
|
| When I return When I return
|
| I'm in my own home.
|
| losing
|
| Gypsies of the old divination
|
| And the dream of death is not a problem.
|
| For everything is given to me as a punishment
|
| My wandering fate
|
| Given to me, apparently, as a punishment
|
| My wandering fate
|
| Chorus:
|
| But I will return to Russia at dawn,
|
| And I will return to my city over the river,
|
| And I will return, even after death,
|
| With a broken heart, with a wounded soul.
|
| And I will return home a saint and a sinner,
|
| Vodka will warm my sick voice,
|
| My soul will cry inconsolably
|
| When I return When I return
|
| I'm in my own home. |