Текст песни Елена Камбурова - Гренада

We rode in step, we raced in battle
And the "Bullseye" kept the song in their teeth,
And still keeps this song
The grass is young, steppe malachite.

But a different song about a distant land
My friend drove with him in the saddle
He sang, looking around his native land,
Grenada, Grenada, My Grenada.

He kept repeating this song by heart
Where did the lad get Spanish sadness?
Answer, Alexandrovsk, and Kharkov answer
How long have you started to sing in Spanish?

Tell me Ukraine isn’t that rye
Taras Shevchenko is the father of the lord?
Where, buddy, is your song:
Grenada, Grenada, My Grenada?

He hesitates with an answer, a dreamer-crest:
Brother, I found Grenada in a book.
Beautiful name, high honor,
There is a Grenada parish in Spain.

I left the house, went to fight,
To give the land in Grenada to the peasants,
Goodbye family, goodbye family
Grenada, Grenada, My Grenada.

We raced, dreaming to comprehend as soon as possible
Grammar of battle, language of batteries.
The sunrise rose and fell again
And the horse was tired of riding in the steppes.

But the "Bullseye" song was played by the squadron
With the bow of suffering on the violins of the times
Where, buddy, is your song
Grenada, Grenada, My Grenada.

A broken body slid to the ground
Comrade left the saddle for the first time
I saw the moon bend over the corpse
And dead lips whispered to Gren ...

Yes, to a far field, sky-high reach
My friend left and took the song away
Since then, native lands have not been heard.
Grenada, Grenada, My Grenada.

The squad did not notice the loss of a fighter
And "Bullseye" finished the song to the end,
Only in the sky quietly slipped after a while
On the velvet of sunset is a tear of rain.

Life came up with new songs
You guys don’t have to bother about the song,
No, no, no, no friends,
Grenada, Grenada, My Grenada.