Макс Фривинг - Л. Прозоров - Евпатий Коловрат 1
текст песни

There is no groan or floating,

And not to the father and the Mother about the chradesh

Or what about fathers and meater,

Neither Brata about the brow, nor the near family,

But all, considerate the dead lying.

They were growing up.

It was obvious, the kogda had not yet been swept out of-za Bor Gore on the Oka, which stood their city. The winter sky was virgin to be a forest. Not a single stove haze.

Kogda was fucked from -za boros, Glezam Gridne - his own and the small Chernihiv help - the black, charred hump by the mountain was foreshadowed.

Soon they saw the first dead. These were men, bobs, children, storchi with staruami. Those who were driven in front of them are the walls of the rods, those who were supposed to dragging their city to the walls of their city a stenolic, kamneboy death. Those who, seeing, kuda and they brought them, rushed with naked hands of strangers, or just calmly sank into the snow, kill, they say. And it is more ineem.

There were many of them - dozens, maybe hundreds. At another time, the governor would bow his head in their last hard time. Hechy, he echoed past with an empty heart, for it was a vain of it. Not a sip of the city is an okka.

Then, at the samikh of the walls - at the place where the walls were - in the roskaty, he saw the noisy. Those who were all the same on the Graad ahead of the raid. What did they shout to the countrywoman, relative to the walls before death? They begged not to shoot, being angry with shaking hands? Or, on the other hand, they asked for death?

At another time, the governor would have been thinking about the person of human. And now his heart was empty, for he owed his samab - too much to call his hometown or at least die with him ...

They lifted between the ashes on the rampant. The hooves of the horses were tapped "U-DA-LI, O-PO-DA-LI."

Shout now that you raged with all his might. That I saw in the saddle on the move. That the snowdrifts drew under the hooves, crossed the river ice with his back and in the paragraph he was running away, having survived winter fierce, gray stas. What, if even faster, would not have been sidened by the horses and the warriors would have caught in the middle of the winter forests with an eternal dream ...

Shout! What to scream, to whom?

Starik, burned in the hands of halves of a riotrated icon?

A bare yard of a naked Malletter with frozen in muddy ice floes, with tears of pain, shame and mortal paraha?

Kuznetsu, whose family was introduced in the middle of the street leading to the gate of Detinza, which in the last moments saw: it dies an inspection, no one left, neither wife, nor daughter, nor mlodeshny, who was bore in the Alae Puddle near Tyn?

To whom, governor? Maybe this dog, lying at the gate next to the owner, dedicated to arrows, but managed to reach someone's throat in the blood?

The dog managed - not to call, so to die at least with honor. And you, the governor, failed. That's the whole SKAZ. That's the whole court ...