Текст песни Смута - Сивер

Breath of the North, shallow drizzle
Gray heaven tears flowing
Wet stones, to the ribs cold
He climbs through clothes in my chest
From under a spreading hunched spruce
I see the channel of the dead river
And as under the winds of fierce force
The trees of slender rows are bending

Oh, you are my Siver - North Wind!
Son of gray waves and thunderstorms
Wrap the curls of the old forest,
Thousands of lakes of water is alarmed

From the shores of the dead channel
Rivers Roads lead us further
A forest path, between ancient pines,
Looping on a mountain slope
Blinks of boiling cold waters,
Persecuted winds, running with twist
Facing the face under the sharp jets,
Wind I will smile at the wind