Текст песни Михаил Щербаков - Острова

My son!
There are no islands.
Calm down, do not waste your strength.
These are all sailors lying.
There is little demand from sailors.

Believe me:
none of my servants
did not meet those islands.
I interrogated everyone, son.
I tried to search for myself.

Seven days
seven of my ships were sailing;
seven accurate nautical charts
I had at hand;
seven nights did not close his eyes ...

All in vain!
No matter how much I look into the distance,
the horizon was always clear
the ocean was empty around.
I came back with nothing, son.

God knows
who told the sailors to lie!
Probably in any lie
hidden meaning ...
But they talk nonsense!

My son,
sailors - that’s it, sound ...
Ships are nonsense, whim ...
For they have nowhere to swim.
Geography is nonsense, son.

Chain of waves
forms a continuous circle.
Our mainland is alone.
Islands are happiness.
There are no islands.

Seven days
lasts a path or seven years
either he will turn back
either in the teeth of whales, there,
on which the world stands ...

Approach the ocean no earlier than
You will understand my instruction. Wait,
until you become intelligent and sober. And then-
approach the ocean without risking blindness
at the sight of the seven islands from the legend
seven islands of gold ... Sailors
they say: they are no more no less
but exactly seven ...