Lyrics енніо Моріконе - Сорок девять дней

Severe you, the climate of Okhotsk,
The third day is a hurricane.
Rises at the helm Kryuchkovsky himself,
To rest - Fedotov Ivan.

Element roar continued,
And the quiet ocean rustled,
Ziganshin stood at the helm
And the eye did not close for a moment.

Severe, terrible deprivation,
No boat can be seen, no sign.
And the decision was made
And they began to eat boots.

Eaten the last potato
Looked into each other's eyes
When ate Poplavsky harmonica,
A steep tear rolled down.

Finished can of canned food
And one potato soup,
All less health and nerves
More and more desire - home.

Hearts continued to work
But less often there is a knock,
Calm, but weak Fedotov
Swallowed the penultimate heel.

All four lay in the bed,
Neither boats, nor crumbs around,
Ziganshin twisted goat leg
Weak fingers.

In the service he is a soldier,
And the navigator is real.
Ziganshin, Kryuchkovsky, Poplavsky
Below the deck, songs are sung.

Ziganshin fastened, held,
Cheered up himself pale as a shadow
And what was going to say,
He said only the next day:

"Friends!" An hour later: "Dear ones!"
“Guys! - After another hour, -
After all, we are not broken element
So will hunger break us?

Forget about the food, what's there,
And remember about our soldiers ... "
"To find out, - Fedotov began to rave, -
And what we eat in part. "

And suddenly - not a mirage, not a myth -
Some ship is coming
By binoculars all prisli,
And from the ship flying a helicopter.

All the bindings are finished,
Serve again, - what, took, ocean? -
Kryuchkovsky, Poplavsky, Fedotov,
And with them Ziganshin Askhat.