Белый Шум - Кто Такие Герои ч.2
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Белый Шум - Кто Такие Герои ч.2 - оригинальный текст песни, перевод, видео
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Учителя обожествляли мразь прилюдно,
Что славит небо чёрное, рассудок мутный.
Учили видеть героизм где-то вдалеке,
Вниз смотреть, когда всё есть на вытянутой руке.
В притоне или в кабаке идеалы искать,
В книге или в прошлом, кем-то сложенным, там по кускам.
Прожиты срам и стыд, за грош и храм открыт,
Может быть там воры, где купала и кресты?
Без новизны. Мне ближе тот, кто дарил тепло и уют,
Кто вкладывал жизнь в простое "люблю".
Не каждому, а вам лишь самое важное,
Тут к ногам отважных города падут.
Салют. Советом наших матерей - быть добрей,
Что до людей - эй, не кури и не пей.
И не судить их за спиной не смей ни слова,
Родная только мова тем, что пани, та пановы.
Я той войны не видел и знал, действительно ли,
Всё так, как вы расписывали: палки, нули.
Не доверяю им, этой падали, чую нутром,
Что не поэт и не писатель тот, с пером.
Отцы воспитывали воинов и бойцов.
Защиту месту, что зовётся Родиной этих юнцов.
Отцы воспитывали справедливость и закон внутри,
Чтоб остальные все спокойно спать могли.
Бери те образы, что помогают быть,
Улыбаться и таких же светлых ценить и любить.
Учить: какую нить на одёжку метнуть,
А какую на петлю, что ляжет на шею врагу.
Мой милый друг, Отечество ближе других
Не вокруг, а в чистоте протянутой руки.
В тех братьях старших, сёстрах, что года
Научили быть достойными и славить небеса.
Родную землю, где деревья листвой
Машут приветливо, ждут с той, что всегда со мной
Под силой ветра верного, что в голове моей
Освежают память всё сильнее говорит о ней.
Лицо и руки битые, убитые глаза,
У мамы в памяти остались и в морщинах у отца.
Моё почтение моим героям, до конца,
Мой папа, моя матушка и брат - любимые сердца.
Пр. (х2)
Сколько было спето куплетов об этом,
Я ни одной строчки так и не написал.
Мои герои сделанные светом,
А свою Родину я сделал сам.
Вы дороги мне, кто со мною, спереди и следом,
Вы рядом, где бы ни были и слава небесам.
Мои герои сделаны из света,
Вы учите любить и верить в чудеса.
Teachers deified the scum in public,
What glorifies the sky black, the mind is muddy.
Taught to see heroism somewhere in the distance,
See down when everything is on an outstretched arm.
In a brothel or in a tavern, look for ideals,
In the book or in the past, someone composed, there in pieces.
Shame and shame are lived, for a penny and the temple is open,
Maybe there are thieves where I bathed the crosses?
Without novelty. The one who gave warmth and comfort is closer to me
Who put life in a simple "love".
Not everyone, but only the most important thing to you
Then they will fall at the feet of brave cities.
Salute. The advice of our mothers is to be kinder,
As for people - hey, do not smoke or drink.
And do not judge them behind your back, do not dare not a word,
Native only Mova by the fact that Pani, that panov.
I have not seen that war and knew whether it really
Everything is the way you painted: sticks, zeros.
I do not trust them, this fell, I feel, I feel it,
That not the poet and the writer is that with a pen.
Fathers brought up warriors and fighters.
Protection to the place that is called the homeland of these youths.
Fathers brought up justice and law inside,
So that the rest can sleep calmly.
Take the images that help to be
Smile and appreciate the same bright and love.
Learn: what thread on the groove to throw,
And what a loop that will fall on the neck of the enemy.
My dear friend, the fatherland is closer to others
Not around, but in the purity of an extended arm.
In those senior brothers, sisters that years
They taught how to be worthy and glorify heaven.
Native land where trees of foliage
Wave affectionate, waiting with the one always with me
Under the power of the wind of the faithful that in my head
The memory is refreshing more and more speaks about her.
Face and hands are broken, killed eyes,
Mom remained in memory in the wrinkles of her father.
My respect to my heroes, to the end,
My dad, my mother and brother are my favorite hearts.
Etc. (x2)
How many verses were about this,
I never wrote a single line.
My heroes made by light
And I made my homeland myself.
You are dear to me, who is with me, front and follow
You are nearby, wherever the glory of heaven.
My heroes are made of the world
You learn to love and believe in miracles.
What glorifies the sky black, the mind is muddy.
Taught to see heroism somewhere in the distance,
See down when everything is on an outstretched arm.
In a brothel or in a tavern, look for ideals,
In the book or in the past, someone composed, there in pieces.
Shame and shame are lived, for a penny and the temple is open,
Maybe there are thieves where I bathed the crosses?
Without novelty. The one who gave warmth and comfort is closer to me
Who put life in a simple "love".
Not everyone, but only the most important thing to you
Then they will fall at the feet of brave cities.
Salute. The advice of our mothers is to be kinder,
As for people - hey, do not smoke or drink.
And do not judge them behind your back, do not dare not a word,
Native only Mova by the fact that Pani, that panov.
I have not seen that war and knew whether it really
Everything is the way you painted: sticks, zeros.
I do not trust them, this fell, I feel, I feel it,
That not the poet and the writer is that with a pen.
Fathers brought up warriors and fighters.
Protection to the place that is called the homeland of these youths.
Fathers brought up justice and law inside,
So that the rest can sleep calmly.
Take the images that help to be
Smile and appreciate the same bright and love.
Learn: what thread on the groove to throw,
And what a loop that will fall on the neck of the enemy.
My dear friend, the fatherland is closer to others
Not around, but in the purity of an extended arm.
In those senior brothers, sisters that years
They taught how to be worthy and glorify heaven.
Native land where trees of foliage
Wave affectionate, waiting with the one always with me
Under the power of the wind of the faithful that in my head
The memory is refreshing more and more speaks about her.
Face and hands are broken, killed eyes,
Mom remained in memory in the wrinkles of her father.
My respect to my heroes, to the end,
My dad, my mother and brother are my favorite hearts.
Etc. (x2)
How many verses were about this,
I never wrote a single line.
My heroes made by light
And I made my homeland myself.
You are dear to me, who is with me, front and follow
You are nearby, wherever the glory of heaven.
My heroes are made of the world
You learn to love and believe in miracles.
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