Lyrics Роберт Бернс - Джон ячменное зерно

Three kings of three sides
                         Have solved at the same time:
                         "You must perish, young John."
                         Barley Grain.
                         
                         Killed, John, in the smoke, in the dust,
                         Your destiny is dark!
                         And then the kings are blown up
                         Grave for the grain ...
                         
                         Spring rain knocks on the window
                         In the April thunder storm, -
                         And John Barley Grain
                         Through peregnoi sprouts ...
                         
                         The spring sun is burnt
                         Swollen humus, -
                         And John winds the wind
                         Moustached head ...
                         
                         But the sweltering autumn is given
                         His own lesson, -
                         And John Barley Grain
                         From the weight of the sick ...
                         
                         It rust is covered with dry,
                         He is in the field of dust ...
                         - Now we will cope with you!
                         The kings rejoice ...
                         
                         He cut off a braid with a bell,
                         Shot from the feet, thrown into the dust,
                         And John's rope twisted
                         It's shaking on the carts ...
                         
                         His chains began to beat,
                         Threw up and down, -
                         And, to be more accurately ruined,
                         The soles were passed ...
                         
                         He is in a pit with water - and here
                         Went to the bottom, to the bottom ...
                         Now, of course, will be lost
                         Barley Grain! ..
                         
                         And his flesh was burned first,
                         And flesh became fumes.
                         And a millstone began to spin,
                         To grind the heart ...

                         . . . . . . . . . . . . .

                         Prepare a noble juice!
                         The rims are fastened together
                         A barrel, shot down from the boards,
                         And John rebels in him ...
                         
                         Three kings of three sides
                         Gathered together, -
                         Before them in the circle goes John
                         Barley Grain ...
                         
                         He splashes force of yeast,
                         He clocks and sings,
                         He walks in a circular bowl,
                         He pours foam on the floor ...
                         
                         Let there is nothing left,
                         And your dust is scattered,
                         But the blood is from your heart
                         Lives in people's hearts! ..
                         
                         Who, bitter with hop,
                         I saw in the cup the bottom -
                         Screaming:
                                - For ever John is glorified
                         Barley Grain!