Lyrics гр.КНЯЗЬ-2009г - ласточки
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The lyrics of the song are provided for your reference гр.КНЯЗЬ-2009г - ласточки, and also a translation of a song with a video or clip.
ЛАСТОЧКИ
А у дороги стоял ветхий крест,
А люди мимо него шли в сто тысяч мест,
И ни один из людей не поклонился ему
И не принёс чёрных роз, не положил на траву.
А он стоял, подвластный ветрам,
И только ворон-ведун прилетал по утрам,
Прилетит и пыль сгонит крылом,
Да Одарит на память чёрным крылом.
Что по лавочкам ласточки,
Что по камню вода,
Поломались мечи о те камушки
Да, жаль, не высекли искры из камня тогда.
И вдруг обратно потекли семь ручьёв,
И сорвались с тучи семьдесят семь ветров,
И катилось зерно по бархату,
Да Прикатилось оно к яхонту.
А он продал весну и купил одолень-траву,
Разводил он костёр и делил огонь
Для тех, кому жить и кому умереть,
И просто для тех, кто будет смотреть.
SWALLOWS
And at the road there was an old cross,
And people passed him by a hundred thousand places,
And none of the people bowed to him
And he did not bring any black roses, he did not put them on the grass.
And he stood, subject to the winds,
And only the crow-vedun flew in the morning,
It will fly and the dust will sweep the wing,
Yes He will give a black wing to memory.
What is on the bills of the swallow,
That the stone is water,
Broken swords on those pebbles
Yes, it's a pity, they did not cut the sparks out of the stone then.
And suddenly seven streams flowed back,
And seventy-seven winds fell from the clouds,
And the grain rolled on velvet,
Yes, it rolled over to the yawn.
And he sold the spring and bought an odo-herb,
He built a fire and shared fire
For those who live and who die,
And just for those who will watch.
And at the road there was an old cross,
And people passed him by a hundred thousand places,
And none of the people bowed to him
And he did not bring any black roses, he did not put them on the grass.
And he stood, subject to the winds,
And only the crow-vedun flew in the morning,
It will fly and the dust will sweep the wing,
Yes He will give a black wing to memory.
What is on the bills of the swallow,
That the stone is water,
Broken swords on those pebbles
Yes, it's a pity, they did not cut the sparks out of the stone then.
And suddenly seven streams flowed back,
And seventy-seven winds fell from the clouds,
And the grain rolled on velvet,
Yes, it rolled over to the yawn.
And he sold the spring and bought an odo-herb,
He built a fire and shared fire
For those who live and who die,
And just for those who will watch.