Текст песни Кирилл Ривель - Памяти А. В. Колчака

Cold of eternal fire
Outside the unfolding events ...
The Third Rome nurtured me,
And the fourth is not to be!
I lost my life for life
With a split of the original:
The spirit is imperial, the chime is shackled,
Left-right step - escape!

To look back,
To freeze - fire on the skin!
I did not plow, really, brother,
I did not plow, but I sowed it all the same ...
Memory, like white ice,
Red horse pierced his hoof ...
Polynye is blacker than Kocit.
Night. February. The twentieth year ...

Pyrrhus feast on the evil wind -
The human story.
How many centuries face to good -
All over the dirt, yes by blood!
Whether my lot: ticket
Wolves pull in the end,
They lead to a dead end roads,
Is not it very expensive?

The world, the sailor, is a volume in the world.
The asterisk burns in the sky.
The wormwood will be tightened by ice,
And in the spring the ice melts ...
Everywhere the wedge, wherever you throw ...
What do I remember? What do I know?
The native country is wide ...
And the star, alas, wormwood!

No last name, no dates
On the graveyards do not look,
And no one is to blame,
What does not exist for the fourth ...
And the polar eternal snow
I lay on my heart, do not melt ...
Time of honor. Time flocks.
Night. February. Twentieth Century.