Старообрядцы Октая - Место привольное здесь
текст песни

My soul is sorely killed
I do not praise my will
And the doors of salvation are closed
The road to the king is closed

Closed by my sins
I have a whole forest
They grew up for years
The location is here

I raised gardens unauthorizedly
And I watered them with anger
The Lord gave me all the expanse
I ran away from him

And how much wander around the light
From, a petition place here
The holy icon appeared
The poor fugitive came to his senses

The holy road glowed
To the homeland, to God, home
I see a network around me
And passions are not visible the end

And if you are my children
Let's go to your father's voice