Текст песни Гадулин Олег - Здравствуй, мама - Дорожка 11

It was digitized in 2014. Yegor Andreev.

More variants of the words:

Hello, my dear mother, is it really
Did not you recognize your son?
In my youth you accompanied me, dear mother,
And now you meet the old man.

"Where, you, my falcon clear, wandered?
Where, you falcon clear, lost?
Why did not you return home?
He was alive - why did not he write?

Maybe you were buried by the earth
Behind Pechora, a fast river?
And since then my heart hurts,
I'm stung by a burning tear ... "

I was not, Mom, I'm buried in the ground,
And with death for a long time he lived.
In mines, in mines, dear mother,
I experienced a lot of grief.

Our camp, mother, was built
Behind Pechora, a fast river,
I thought about freedom, my dear mother,
Choking with a burning tear.

Again these dusty cars,
Again the clatter of wheels, uneven battle,
Once again empty platforms
And the dogs of the escort wicked howl.

Now the term has left and returned ...
You see a son before you.
In my youth you accompanied me, dear mother,
And now you meet the old man.

_____________________________________________

Hello mother! Did not I recognize
His beloved son?
You saw me off as a young man,
And now you meet the old man.

You, probably, mum, did not dream
See your son?
And the old woman sobbed bitterly,
Hugging, she began to kiss.

"Where for so long, falcon, so wandered?
Where for so long, falcon, did you fly?
Why did not you return home?
Was he alive and did not write letters?

They told me: you are buried by the earth
Behind Pechora, a fast river.
And since then my heart hurts,
Feeling sad and sad. "

I was not, Mom, I'm buried in the ground.
I am with death, my mother, amicably lived.
Behind Pechora, a fast river,
He lived through many thoughts and sorrows.

There the years were young,
There, where a merry nightingale sang ...
My hair is already gray.
Oh, how sorry his youth!

Often, death went on behind,
Often, often hunger was pestering,
In summer, the heat was raging,
And in winter, frost penetrated.

So pour, Mom, more vodka,
Bitter vodka I shower my soul.
I will forget the camp agony
And I will give you joy.

__________________________________________

So hello, mother! Did not you know?
His beloved son?
You saw me off as a young man,
And now you meet the old man.

"So hello, son, good and desirable!
Where did you fly so long?
Was alive, did not return home,
But why did not you write me letters?

And they told me that you were buried in the ground
There behind Pechora, behind the Russian river?
And all my life I was ill with my soul
And poured out a mother's tear ... "

So I was not buried then by the earth,
And I, together with death, amicably, my mother, lived.
There behind Pechora, behind the Russian river
I have many griefs, my mother, survived.

And these years the young,
As if a nightingale sang on a branch.
And my hair was completely gray.
Oh, how I am sorry, mother, my youth!

So pour, mother, bitter vodka,
I sip my sorrow with vodka.
I'll forget the campfire
And about this song - what I sing.