Lyrics Г. Свиридов, исп. Данилова Екатерина - О Родина, счастливый и неисходный час
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The lyrics of the song are provided for your reference Г. Свиридов, исп. Данилова Екатерина - О Родина, счастливый и неисходный час, and also a translation of a song with a video or clip.
О родина, счастливый
И неисходный час!
Нет лучше, нет красивей
Твоих коровьих глаз.
Тебе, твоим туманам
И овцам на полях,
Несу, как сноп овсяный,
Я солнце на руках.
Святись преполовеньем
И рождеством святись,
Чтоб жаждущие бденья
Извечьем напились.
Плечьми трясем мы небо,
Руками зыбим мрак
И в тощий колос хлеба
Вдыхаем звездный злак.
О Русь, о степь и ветры,
И ты, мой отчий дом!
На золотой повети
Гнездится вешний гром.
Овсом мы кормим бурю,
Молитвой поим дол,
И пашню голубую
Нам пашет разум-вол.
И ни единый камень,
Через пращу и лук,
Не подобьет над нами
Подъятье Божьих рук.
Oh homeland, happy
And not the starting hour!
No better, no prettier
Your cow's eyes.
To you, to your mists
And the sheep in the fields
I carry it like a sheaf of oatmeal
I am the sun in my arms.
Hallow
And holy merry christmas,
So that thirsty vigils
We got drunk with a lash.
We shake the sky with our shoulders
We shake the darkness with our hands
And into a skinny ear of bread
We inhale the starry cereal.
About Russia, about steppe and winds,
And you, my father's house!
On the golden poveta
Spring thunder is nesting.
We feed the storm with oats
We will drink the dolphins by prayer,
And blue arable land
The mind-ox plows us.
And not a single stone
Through a sling and bow
Will not obey us
Raising God's hands.
And not the starting hour!
No better, no prettier
Your cow's eyes.
To you, to your mists
And the sheep in the fields
I carry it like a sheaf of oatmeal
I am the sun in my arms.
Hallow
And holy merry christmas,
So that thirsty vigils
We got drunk with a lash.
We shake the sky with our shoulders
We shake the darkness with our hands
And into a skinny ear of bread
We inhale the starry cereal.
About Russia, about steppe and winds,
And you, my father's house!
On the golden poveta
Spring thunder is nesting.
We feed the storm with oats
We will drink the dolphins by prayer,
And blue arable land
The mind-ox plows us.
And not a single stone
Through a sling and bow
Will not obey us
Raising God's hands.