Високосный Год - 1637
текст песни

At sixteen thirty -seven time it took.
Eh, what time was
It knew the price.
Believe it, isn't it?
Everything is more audible and noticeable
Paints are pouring from paintings,
Time is asking to leave ...
I let go
I die every time I see the wind
Raises the leaves to the sky,
Hey back mine!
You see, I myself have little!

The leaves of the tourniquet - the sweet smell of death,
Life is a bitter line ...
The leaves are burning, and it is unlikely that anyone will notice
How the autumn burning around the fire burns.
Silence clench teeth
And only our voices

the voices of our birds,
Somewhere already beyond the river!
Three or four-five, I'm going to look for spring, ay!

Eh, my dear what you thought about before
Who will wipe your tears now,
Now that the night is longer than the day
And the day is shorter than the night
In short, everything is not right now ...

Vote,
the voices of our birds,
Somewhere already beyond the river ...
Three or four-five, I'm going to look for spring, ay!

So, sixteen thirty -seven.
God stops time.
He descends from heaven,
In pockets hides miracles.
He says that I can pass the letter to you,
with a white sail that returns
many, many years ago
There, where everyone is still alive, into the house where I once lived,
Where are our voices heard

The voices of our birds
Somewhere already beyond the river!
Three or four-five, I'm going to look for spring, ay!

Vote,
The voices of our birds
Somewhere already beyond the river!
Three or four-five, I'm going to look for spring, ay!