Eh, Roads ...
Words of Leo Oshanin
Music Anatoly Novikova
Eh, roads ... dust yes fog,
Cold, anxiety, and steppe bunign.
You can not know the share of your:
Maybe the wings will fold in the midway.
Dust under boots - steppes, fields,
And the flame is raging around, but the bullets whistle.
Eh, roads ... dust yes fog,
Cold, anxiety, and steppe bunign.
The shot is born, the raven grieves,
Your friend in Byriana is inanimate lies.
And the road rushes further, dust, flower,
And around the earth smokes - Alien Earth!
Eh, roads ... dust yes fog,
Cold, anxiety, and steppe bunign.
The edge is pine, the sun rises.
The porch has a native mother's son waiting.
And endless paths - steppes, fields -
Everyone looks for us native eyes.
Eh, roads ... dust and fog,
Cold, anxiety, and steppe bunign.
Snow Lee, I remember the wind, friends.
... We can not forget these roads.