Lyrics Хук справа - Огни Отмщения
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The lyrics of the song are provided for your reference Хук справа - Огни Отмщения, and also a translation of a song with a video or clip.
В свете Купальских костров,
В солнечном яростном пламени,
В ночной тишине вещих снов
Видим мы тех, кто не с нами…
Смертью повязаны,
Речи все сказаны,
В промерзшей земле – мягкий пух.
Что мы обязаны?
Руки развязаны?
Парит в облаках его дух.
Над вечными спорами,
Над уговорами
И в сомне бессмысленных слов.
Над веры опорами,
За крови просторами,
В седой синеве облаков.
Мы были все разные:
Зеленые, красные
Средь буйства ошибок и дум.
Узнали прекрасно,
Что стало опасно
Быть русским на Родине вдруг.
Смотрели – не видели.
Туземные жители
Здесь стали творить произвол.
Кого-то обидели?
Седые родители.
И в морге за номером стол.
Мы будем ругаться?
Мы будем бояться?
Себя еще пуще разделим?
А, может, сражаться?
И не сдаваться?
И в себя наконец-то поверим?
Нас мало и так,
Кому не пустяк,
Что гости свой статус забыли.
Кто-то под флаг,
Кто-то в кулак
Свои ладони сложили.
А там, в облаках,
В рассветных порах
Улыбки всех тех, кто не с нами.
В живущих умах,
В крови берегах
Мерцают отмщенья огнями.
In the light of the Kupala bonfires,
In a violent violent flame,
In the night silence of prophetic dreams
We see those who are not with us ...
Death bound,
The speeches are all said
In the frozen ground - soft fluff.
What do we owe?
Hands untied?
Soars in the clouds of his spirit.
Over the eternal debate,
Above persuasion
And doubtless meaningless words.
Above faith supports
For blood spaces,
In the gray blue of the clouds.
We were all different:
Green red
Amid the riot of errors and thoughts.
We learned very well
What became dangerous
Being Russian at home suddenly.
Watched - not seen.
Native residents
Here they began to create arbitrariness.
Someone offended?
Gray parents.
And in the morgue at the table number.
Will we swear?
Will we be afraid?
Even more divided?
Or maybe fight?
And do not give up?
And finally believe in yourself?
We are few and so
Who is not a trifle,
That guests forgot their status.
Someone under the flag,
Someone in a fist
Their palms folded.
And there, in the clouds,
In the dawn pores
Smiles of all those who are not with us.
In living minds,
In the blood banks
Flickering vengeance lights.
In a violent violent flame,
In the night silence of prophetic dreams
We see those who are not with us ...
Death bound,
The speeches are all said
In the frozen ground - soft fluff.
What do we owe?
Hands untied?
Soars in the clouds of his spirit.
Over the eternal debate,
Above persuasion
And doubtless meaningless words.
Above faith supports
For blood spaces,
In the gray blue of the clouds.
We were all different:
Green red
Amid the riot of errors and thoughts.
We learned very well
What became dangerous
Being Russian at home suddenly.
Watched - not seen.
Native residents
Here they began to create arbitrariness.
Someone offended?
Gray parents.
And in the morgue at the table number.
Will we swear?
Will we be afraid?
Even more divided?
Or maybe fight?
And do not give up?
And finally believe in yourself?
We are few and so
Who is not a trifle,
That guests forgot their status.
Someone under the flag,
Someone in a fist
Their palms folded.
And there, in the clouds,
In the dawn pores
Smiles of all those who are not with us.
In living minds,
In the blood banks
Flickering vengeance lights.