Lyrics Ексампей - Скіфська колискова
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The lyrics of the song are provided for your reference Ексампей - Скіфська колискова, and also a translation of a song with a video or clip.
Передмова:
Відкритою раною сиротіє у полі
Безіменна розрита могила.
Грабіжники шукали золото,
Проте в ній похована лише мати
З двома дітьми близнятами,
А її остання колискова пісня знову
Звучить над сивим від ковили степом...
Спи, мій хлопчику, засни.
Ходять полем білі сни,
Ще й маленьке соненя
Йде за ними і куня.
Зупинився білий сон
І сказав: "Я патисон".
А чого він патисон?
Шось привиділось крізь сон.
Спи, мій синку, тихо, тихо,
Ген іде стара сониха -
Довга вовняна коса
Нище пояса звиса.
Поступилася та й встала,
Аж туман над ставом став.
Стави сиві сни пасе,
Ти заснув, ну от і все,
Ти заснув, ну от і все,
Ти заснув, ну от і все...
(с)Слова Бориса Мозолевського
(с)Музика Олександра Босого
Preface:
Orphaned in the field with an open wound
An unmarked grave.
The robbers were looking for gold,
However, only the mother is buried in it
With two twin children,
And her last lullaby song again
Sounds over the gray of the steppe stew ...
Sleep, my boy, sleep.
Walk the field of white dreams,
Even a little sleep
Followed by a kunya.
The white dream stopped
And he said, "I'm a squash."
And why is he a squash?
The show seemed to be dreaming.
Sleep, my son, quiet, quiet,
Gene goes old sonny -
Long wool hair
The lower belt hangs.
She gave in and stood up,
Already the fog over the pond became.
Set gray dreams of the pass,
You fell asleep, well that's all,
You fell asleep, well that's all,
You fell asleep, well that's all ...
(c) The words of Boris Mozolevsky
(c) Music by Alexander Bossy
Orphaned in the field with an open wound
An unmarked grave.
The robbers were looking for gold,
However, only the mother is buried in it
With two twin children,
And her last lullaby song again
Sounds over the gray of the steppe stew ...
Sleep, my boy, sleep.
Walk the field of white dreams,
Even a little sleep
Followed by a kunya.
The white dream stopped
And he said, "I'm a squash."
And why is he a squash?
The show seemed to be dreaming.
Sleep, my son, quiet, quiet,
Gene goes old sonny -
Long wool hair
The lower belt hangs.
She gave in and stood up,
Already the fog over the pond became.
Set gray dreams of the pass,
You fell asleep, well that's all,
You fell asleep, well that's all,
You fell asleep, well that's all ...
(c) The words of Boris Mozolevsky
(c) Music by Alexander Bossy