Текст песни Владимир Мулявин - Краю мой родны

The edges of my mother, my sweet edge,
lapis lazuli, a model from the golden cornfields,
who you vkvetsiv fluffy snowball,
flowers, forest planted thick?

Forest, field, meadow, meadows,
swift rivers, lakes space -
who scattered great wealth
eternal treasures in a beautiful pattern.

if you spilled a golden sun,
powerful chest bestow circle
and the sky will protect tumanam- blue,
as if an angel wing Prozorov,

birches and wind your long braids
rascheshesh be poured out on white barrel,
and pear-beauty roof snow,
color white sows on green fields.

A large grass catch, then lift,
ringing on the leaves of trees, conceived,
chords to strike as May, young,
under the Neman spring bubbling melody -

the joy, the happiness of the soul dies,
and I want to heart, hands hug
its edge kind, akvechany have,
where flowers, where the Neman wave ring.

Dream you will all call a foreign country,
He beckons to their villages, to the house of the old,
large fragrant fields of clover,
maiden song, wrapped longing.

Chelo plow life, may, in furrows cut away,
frost can head cover years -
in the heart do not wither the green border,
tight not fail to native angles.