Lyrics Русские марши - Оружием на солнце сверкая
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The lyrics of the song are provided for your reference Русские марши - Оружием на солнце сверкая, and also a translation of a song with a video or clip.
Оружьемъ на солнцѣ сверкая,
Подъ звуки лихихъ трубачей,
По улицѣ пыль подымая,
Проходилъ полк гусаръ усачей.
А тамъ чуть поднявъ занавѣску,
Лишь пара голубенькихъ глазъ
Смотрѣла и чуютъ гусары,
Что тутъ будетъ немало проказъ.
Вотъ полкъ разведенъ по квартирамъ,
Ужъ полночь, все спитъ мертвымъ сномъ
И не снится сѣдымъ командирамъ,
Что творится у нихъ подъ окномъ.
А утромъ оружьемъ сверкая,
Подъ звуки лихихъ трубачей,
По улицѣ пыль подымая,
Уходилъ полкъ гусаръ усачей.
А тамъ чуть поднявъ занавѣску,
Лишь пара голубенькихъ глазъ
Искала среди уходившихъ
Виновника милыхъ проказъ.
И часто при свѣтѣ лампады,
Во мракѣ осеннихъ ночей,
Вспоминали потухшiя глазки
Тѣ звуки лихихъ трубачей.
Подъ звуки лихихъ трубачей,
По улицѣ пыль подымая,
Проходилъ полк гусаръ усачей.
А тамъ чуть поднявъ занавѣску,
Лишь пара голубенькихъ глазъ
Смотрѣла и чуютъ гусары,
Что тутъ будетъ немало проказъ.
Вотъ полкъ разведенъ по квартирамъ,
Ужъ полночь, все спитъ мертвымъ сномъ
И не снится сѣдымъ командирамъ,
Что творится у нихъ подъ окномъ.
А утромъ оружьемъ сверкая,
Подъ звуки лихихъ трубачей,
По улицѣ пыль подымая,
Уходилъ полкъ гусаръ усачей.
А тамъ чуть поднявъ занавѣску,
Лишь пара голубенькихъ глазъ
Искала среди уходившихъ
Виновника милыхъ проказъ.
И часто при свѣтѣ лампады,
Во мракѣ осеннихъ ночей,
Вспоминали потухшiя глазки
Тѣ звуки лихихъ трубачей.
Armored in the sun,
Under the sounds of dashing trumpeters,
On the street, raising dust,
A regiment of hussars with beetles passed.
And then raising the curtain a little,
Only a pair of blue eyes
The hussars looked and smelt,
That there will be a lot of prose.
Here is the regiment divorced in the apartments,
Already midnight, everything sleeps dead by sleep
And he does not dream about his commanders,
What is happening in their window.
And in the morning,
Under the sounds of dashing trumpeters,
On the street, raising dust,
A regiment of hussars was leaving the barbel.
And then raising the curtain a little,
Only a pair of blue eyes
I searched among the departed
The culprit of lovely prose.
And often with the light of the lamp,
In the darkness of autumn nights,
Remember extinction eyes
Those sounds are dashing trumpeters.
Under the sounds of dashing trumpeters,
On the street, raising dust,
A regiment of hussars with beetles passed.
And then raising the curtain a little,
Only a pair of blue eyes
The hussars looked and smelt,
That there will be a lot of prose.
Here is the regiment divorced in the apartments,
Already midnight, everything sleeps dead by sleep
And he does not dream about his commanders,
What is happening in their window.
And in the morning,
Under the sounds of dashing trumpeters,
On the street, raising dust,
A regiment of hussars was leaving the barbel.
And then raising the curtain a little,
Only a pair of blue eyes
I searched among the departed
The culprit of lovely prose.
And often with the light of the lamp,
In the darkness of autumn nights,
Remember extinction eyes
Those sounds are dashing trumpeters.