Текст песни Шунема - Лес мой храм

The crowns of trees are noisy above the head. The rustle of something is certainly alive, but not at all terrible, are heard everywhere. I tremble on the ground and some special ether pierces my whole being.
Each time I notice some special light here - otherworldly, but at the same time very close and native. He envelops me, penetrates into my very essence and it is no longer possible to distinguish the line, which once separated what I thought from this solemn splendor.
I'm home…

There are no domes and walls in my temple,
The floor of the gray leaves throws.
I'm leaving the world of concrete corners
There, where there are no shabby ceilings and floors.

Let those angles lie in ashes,
That our souls have not warmed!
And the wasteland will survive us,
And we will listen to the noise of the forests ...

And among centuries -old oaks
We will find the paths to our roots,
After all, we are not descendants of slaves!
Not by the slaves themselves!

Look at the light
Where there is no one,
Into the depths of the void
This light is you.

In the middle of stones and herbs
You have always been right
Among stumps and mosses
Your only shelter.

You let into yourself the light
And you are no more
In the arms of the void
This light was you.

To wildflowers
And distant hills
On the beasts of the traces
Forest is my temple!

Touching the footsteps of fallen needles,
My legs carry me further from the house,
And the Homon subsides in my head,
Passing the thicket of Bourlome.

Not a share of doubts about my gaze,
Fatigue and DREMA immediately subside,
There is no ailments in my body
I am on the threshold of my house.

I fall into your arms and millions of trees pull the branches to the sun