Текст песни Тэм Гринхилл - Лютня сгорает в огне

The last cup of parting is golden wine
In the silence around the silver cup goes
No one will return from this fight
The last song today singer dopoet
A fight through death is terrible, albeit far removed
The song is silent in silence
When a minstrel takes a sword in his hand,
Lute burns in the fire

In the battle are equal to the death of the narrator and warrior
Hand minstrel hugs sword hilt
In the eyes, doom, but pale faces are calm
The war is on the threshold, but in the battle they can not resist
The minstrel sings - the voice is clear and high
The song is ringing in the sky
When the minstrel takes the blade
Lute burns in the fire

Let them teach the science of possession of arms
Yet the singer is not able to become a warrior
The sword of the minstrel is hard to hold and not needed
Even harder for him to raise
Knights of song and distant roads
They are killed in a cruel war
When the minstrel takes the blade
Lute burns in the fire

The feast is over and the last song is finished
Iron strings for the last time stroking the palm of your hand
It's time - on the verge of frozen in anticipation of the messenger
And the singer puts the lute carefully in the fire
Pure and sonorous, the horn sings
Torn the second string
When the minstrel takes the blade
Lute burns in the fire