Михаил Щербаков - Острова
текст песни

My son!
There are no islands.
Calm down, do not waste strength.
All the sailors are lying.
With sailors, demand is small.

Believe me:
None of my servants
I have not met the islands of those.
I interrogated everyone, son.
I tried to look for myself.

Seven days
Seven of my ships went;
Seven precise sea maps
I had under my hand;
Seven nights did not close the eye ...

All in vain!
No matter how much I looked at the distance
The horizon was always clean,
The ocean was empty around.
I returned with nothing, son.

God news
Who ordered the sailors to lie!
Probably in any lie
The secret meaning is concluded ...
But they say nonsense!

My son,
Sailors are so, sound ...
Ships - nonsense, whim ...
For there is nowhere to swim.
Geography is nonsense, son.

Wave chain
forms a continuous circle.
Own our mainland.
Islands are happiness.
There are no islands.

Seven days
lasts a way or seven years
or he will turn back
or in the teeth to whales, there,
on which the world stands ...

Come to the ocean no earlier than
You will understand my instruction. Wait,
While you become intelligent and sober. And then-
come to the ocean, blinded without risk
at the sight of seven islands from the legend,
Seven islands of gold ... sailors
they say: there are no more than more,
But it is seven ...