And on the street - spring.
Blue skies boarded up
And the heavenly eyes are preoccupied.
Pull your little hands straight to the sun
You sow your happiness, oh, a grain of seed.
Lips dry with heat, and dark in eyes.
There was no clean water, oh, for a long time.
You are in anticipation of trouble, waiting:
The last days have come, the days of suffering.
And on the street - spring, oh, red,
But without God, and she is not spring.
And we cry out at night the Lord Christ
But we crucified him, that's the trouble!
Take a staff and leave, but where now?
And on the street - spring, and in the shower - a blizzard,
And you have emptiness and pain in your heart.
Arable land groans without water, oh-oh-oh-oh
Every day from all sides we are promised gods,
Only our True God is not like that!
You, a Russian country, oh, a sufferer,
Think about how we can handle this.
And on the street - spring, oh, red,
But without God, and she is not spring.
And we cry out at night the Lord Christ
But we crucified him, that's the trouble!
