Пикник - Побежать бы за леса-горы
текст песни

(E. Schklyarsky)

Got lost in a foreign city,
And the soul trembles in the cold
Where are the steps struck
The earth breathes.

We pretend to be passers -by
Similar to each other.
All ways are already out of the way
But there is no cherished.

To fly by the forests of the mountains
Would fly to the mountains of laes,
Where with a crystal ringing of heaven they celebrate the dawn.

Tear roads to pieces,
Apparently, there is no happiness ...
Apparently, swing with the wind -
That's what fell to me.

To fly by the forests of the mountains
Would fly to the mountains of laes,
Where with a crystal ringing of heaven they celebrate the dawn.

Would fly ...
Would fly ...