| Lukomorye is no more, the oaks have caught a trace,
|
| Oak is suitable for parquet, but no -
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| Hefty rednecks came out of the hut,
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| They cut down all the oaks for coffins.
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| You calm down, calm down, longing in my chest,
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| This is just a saying, a fairy tale ahead.
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| It's wonderful to live in houses on chicken legs,
|
| But the Vertoprach appeared to everyone in fear,
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| He was a good fellow - he got the grandmother-witch drunk,
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| He accomplished a feat of arms, burned down the house.
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| You calm down, calm down, longing in my chest,
|
| This is just a saying, a fairy tale ahead.
|
| Thirty-three heroes decided that in vain
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| They took care of the king and the sea,
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| Everyone took a piece of clothing for himself, started chickens and sat in it
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| Protecting your inheritance is out of work.
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| Having peeled off the green oak, their uncle made a log house,
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| And with those around him he became stupid and rude,
|
| And the day-to-day former uncle of their marine cursed,
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| Although he had his own plot near Moscow.
|
| You calm down, calm down, longing in my chest,
|
| This is just a saying, a fairy tale ahead.
|
| And the Mermaid, that's the case - she did not save her honor for long,
|
| And one day, as she could, she gave birth,
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| Thirty-three men don't want to know their son
|
| Let it be considered until the son of the regiment.
|
| Once upon a time, a sorcerer, a liar, a talker and a laughter,
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| He offered her, as a connoisseur of women's strings,
|
| Like, mermaid, I'll understand everything and take you with a child,
|
| And she went to him like a prison.
|
| You calm down, calm down, longing in my chest,
|
| This is just a saying, a fairy tale ahead.
|
| There really walks a cat, as to the right, so he sings,
|
| And how to the left - so the anecdote will bend,
|
| But the scientist, son of a bitch, took the golden chain to torgsin,
|
| And to the rescue - one to the store.
|
| Once he received a fee for God's gift,
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| In Lukomorye, a fume per hectare,
|
| But his blow was enough to avoid God's punishments
|
| The cat dictates a memoir about the Tatars.
|
| You calm down, calm down, longing in my chest,
|
| This is just a saying, a fairy tale ahead.
|
| And the bearded Chernomor, the first thief of Lukomorsk,
|
| He stole Lyudmila a long time ago, oh, cunning!
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| Cleverly uses, thief, the fact that he can fly,
|
| You gape - he grab - and tick.
|
| And the carpet plane was handed over to the museum last year,
|
| Inquisitive people and rushing,
|
| And without fear, the old grunt woman steals - whine, no whine,
|
| Oh, quickly break his paralysis!
|
| No urine, no strength - Leshy somehow didn’t drink,
|
| He beat his Leshachikha and yelled:
|
| "Give me a ruble, I'll beat it, but then, I'm a getter, or who?
|
| And if you don’t, I’ll drink the chisel!”
|
| "Didn't I carry berries?" Leshy cried again.
|
| "And how many kil brought bark!
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| Torn from afar all your fun for,
|
| And you spare me a ruble, oh, you aphid!
|
| And unseen animals, there is no game for her,
|
| Huntsmen came for her,
|
| So it means it's not a secret - Lukomorye is no more,
|
| And everything the poet wrote about is nonsense.
|
| You calm down, calm down, melancholy, do not hurt my soul,
|
| Since this is a saying, then it's rubbish. |