Леонид Сергеев - Колоколенка
текст песни

On the mountain, the Kollekthenka stands on the horushka,
And with her the pitch is twisted a machine gun,
And lies on the puff boots to the sun
With the wrapper, the mother is our heroic platoon.

We are dense naval fingers
Bullets like sparrows, splashing in dust ...
Mitria Gorokhova yes Sergeant Mokhova
These sparrows took yes found.

Here, the senior latles tell me thin,
So that I accepted the death for honest people,
So that on the Kolkalenka choked the bloodsout
The wrapper is the sort of this Sukin cat.

I firmly adjusted tongue to my rifle
For the boot, the old Nagan was thrown.
"The fame" of the third degree and brazing medal
From the left hand, the patcher is deep in his pocket.

I filed a chinarik, I was thrown Sukharik
Senior Large Large Flage Flask.
I tried her, I remembered my mother's mother
Yes, on the field, the flesh quickly ran.

And on the Kolken, Sukin Cat is nervous
I began to push me, so surely.
Yes, see, Siroko, small sand
He got into her eyes - a hand shook.

I fled the rifle yes fell behind pebbles,
So that I thought the enemy, as if hooked.
Yes, he, I see, was shooting - I did not immediately believe me
And on the stone, the pebble was long planted.

Yes, it can be seen, no fate was bullet to try ...
Himself of senior larders got up like a parade.
Immediately from the bell, fun chirik,
Ptashchki flew into the chest, threw back.

I sobbed without a voice, gnawing the land bitter,
I ran, without thinking, in a slide straight.
I was horrified and tormented by an imperishable,
Methyl in the bell is my hungry bayonet.

Side hills, towers-bells ...
What is appointed? Whose turn now?
The wound is not hosted, the memory is unbounded -
Sun, yes Polyushko, yes Heroic platoon ..