Текст песни Н. Некрасов - Тишина

All the rye is like a living steppe,
No castles, no seas, no mountains ...
Thank you, dear side,
For your healing space!
Over the distant Mediterranean Sea,
Under the sky is brighter than yours
I was looking for a reconciliation with grief,
And I didn't find anything!
I'm not mine there: I'm moping, I'm dumb,
Without conquering my fate,
I bent over there in front of her,
But you breathed - and I will be able
Maybe endure the fight!

I am yours. Let the murmur be reproachful
He was running after me,
Not to the heavens of someone else's homeland -
I composed songs to my homeland!
And now I greedily believe
My beloved dream
And I send in affection
Hello everyone ... I'll find out
The severity of the rivers always ready
Withstand the war with a thunderstorm,
And the even noise of pine forests,
And the silence of the villages
And the cornfields are wide in size ...
The temple of God on the mountain flashed
And a childishly pure sense of faith
Suddenly he smelled on the soul.
No denial, no doubt
And an unearthly voice whispers:
Take a moment of emotion
Come in with your head open!
No matter how warm someone else's sea,
No matter how red someone else's distance,
It is not for her to correct our grief,
Open the Russian sorrow!
Temple of sighing, temple of sorrow -
Poor temple of your land:
Didn't hear heavy moans
Neither the Roman Peter nor the Colosseum!
Here people, beloved by you,
Your irresistible longing
Brought holy burden -
And the relieved one was leaving!
Come in! Christ will lay his hands
And will remove by the will of the saint
Shackles from the soul, from the heart of torment
And ulcers from the patient's conscience ...