| Amnem sadness weighs on me, pulls me into the whirlpool, -
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| Why does every word hurt today?
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| Just somewhere nearby stood a camp of gypsies
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| And disturb the soul in the evenings.
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| And, like strings, poplars sing.
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| La-la-la-la, la-la, la-la-la-la!
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| And the earth rings like a guitar.
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| La-la-la-la, la-la, la-la-la-la!
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| I'll drown longing in the river, I'll steal at least the night, -
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| There, in the steppe, bonfires are burning and the flame beckons me.
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| Soul and shirt - oh! |
| - tear to shreds -
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| Help me, gypsies!
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| I'll skip everything to the ruble!
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| La-la-la-la, la-la, la-la-la-la!
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| Let the gypsy sing to me, shalya.
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| La-la-la-la, la-la, la-la-la-la!
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| Everything that fell asleep in me - the strings will wake up again,
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| Everything overgrown with past - let it bloom with flowers!
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| Good people will forgive, and evil people - let them condemn, -
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| I, gypsies, will stay with you!
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| You won't wait for me, noose!
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| La-la-la-la, la-la, la-la-la-la!
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| Flow, song, like rain on the fields!
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| La-la-la-la, la-la, la-la-la-la! |