Текст песни The Bowstring - Рисовая Поляна.

I remember when I was little
my grandfather always told me stories
about his beloved field, how he loved it
how much time he spent on it and how many times he has already plowed it.
But we love his story, which I heard a thousand times about
what grew in this field, because this land was not cleared and empty
until my grandfather planted grass on it. How the Grass grew there and it was time to collect it, when my uncle a policeman appeared. And he began to ask my grandfather
what and how is growing in his field, but my grandfather, at a loss, firmly told him
That my grass does not grow there, especially poppy and hemp, but ordinary
Rice meadow.
Oh-oh-oh-oh Rice meadow.

But ten years have passed my grandfather is no more, but he left the field to me.
At first I didn’t want to continue these cases, but then I agreed anyway. And I plowed the field and planted the grass and began to water it every day. And after a couple of weeks such crap came to me with a check of my field. I showed them all the documents but the policeman told me what, what
not legal grows on my field, but I firmly told him that it’s nothing to do with crime doesn’t grow here opal but ordinary
The rice is full.
Oh-oh-oh-oh Rice meadow.

Many years have passed, I myself am already a grandfather
began to tell his grandson.
I have the best grass on the field
and soon she will become his granddaughter of me
understood in response, nodded and
supported all my imaginations.
He waited until I told
And quietly began to expound.
That he will not speak and hold shows
His mastery. He will learn and that's it. Will become an important person.
And for everyone and everything he will have a fairy tale that is simple
Rice meadow
Oh-oh-oh-oh Rice meadow.