Текст песни Пикник - Какие смутные дни

What troublesome days, how the wind of anxiety breathes,
And we dance alone on a dusty ribbon of roads.
As if the oath was given: & quot; Do not cherish anything & quot ;,
And only in these waves circling.

So boil the ginseng juice in your blood,
Lost your soul, run the earth from under your feet,
So fly the head with the leaves down.
Such troubled days, such troubled days.

And ginseng juice boils in the blood,
And someone's gaze is aimed right at the temple,
So fly the head with the leaves down.
Such troubled days, such troubled days.