Текст песни Тихонычев Данил - Вьётся лентой дорога в полях

The road in the fields curls the ribbon,
Rye bends under the wind,
I'm the same as you are a fellow countryman
What was born in the world.

Breaked poplars,
An old woman runs to the gate,
On the palms crunches, ringing,
From homemade bread a edge.

And in the hallway that crack in winter,
Under the porch, the milk is paired,
The samovar is brought home,
The quarrel ring keeps up.

And not knowing troubles and losses,
Children's laughter is heard in the cage ...
I will not forget that laughter now
I will not forget these years.

You were waiting for me night outside the window
My mother, dear time,
And the father at this time with a whip -
I corrected a naughty stirrup.

And now in that place the hills
Like mounds over our past,
And we are standing on this hill we,
We keep the memory of everything good.

Before us is spacious and sunset -
This is all that remains of us.
Eh return there now,
Eh to return to the most to ...

The road in the fields curls the ribbon,
Rozh is bent by the wind
I'm the same as you are a fellow countryman
What looks like you.

Tikhonchev Danil