Текст песни Александр Медведев - Колокол

A gray-haired blacksmith poured copper on my cheeks.
I was given one of the languages.
Blessed, ordered to endure,
And tied to the paws of the clouds.
Not so hung me, not there
Head down, without a voice, not to God.
Tell me people, if this is a temple,
Why keep the alarm under the dome?

Do not lick or swallow saliva
Do not make a sound or touch the palate.
The tongue is tied, extended into a string.
And I am silent, shot on brackets.
The horizon is bleeding, the gloom is blackening,
And the evil wind licks the peaks.
But the little bell ringer sleeps quietly
And gray in the icons doze faces.

The nomad army is already close
On the tracts, death is a midwife today.
You don’t have enough faith to raise
His prayers to the hearing ear.
I do not want to incite trouble
But my bell ringer is running, raising his cassock.
The hand trembles and reaches out to the mouth
To unleash a tongue that has become fat for meat.

Call the ringer to peel off the scan
So that the grain showered in the church forests.
I kept silent for years, pay tribute to me
And open my throat to heaven!
So that I wheeze, I ask that time pass.
Trouble! Victory! Life on the covers of books!
So that something happens somewhere
I should not untie the tongue!