Григорий Данской - Ивиковы журавли
текст песни

Snow asks the soul, only snow,
As if from the homeland of a lump of earth.
In a roadside fragment of the sky
The Ivikovs circle.
The Ivikovs are circling
Above the plowed rot of the fields,
And knocking in the clouds of hooves
Black Iviki crane.

Snow asks the soul, only snow,
So that peace forever, forever.
Infantile eccentric Onegin
Looks with sadness in the twentieth century:
On the Baltic gray puddles,
On skeletons of steel ships,
Looks at the sky, and circles in the sky
A flock of Iviki crane.

Snow asks the soul to the open spaces
Rus', on the buttonholes of the soldiers,
To the epaulets to the holy major,
On the Arkhangelsk Clean Smrad,
Tin blocks are on churches,
Where the Lord is so terribly high,
On my wooden lips
On the samped pain of the temple,
On charred villages,
To the spinning cities ...
Well, in the sky so funny
Crows fly nowhere.
Only higher, at the very sun
Even more terrible and more fun
The emerald heart beats
Black Iviki crane.

Snow asks the soul, only snow,
As if from the homeland of a lump of earth.
In a roadside fragment of the sky
The Ivikovs circle.
We can’t get away from them anywhere,
So as not to hear their voice,
So that they do not beat in the heart
Their Homeric eyes.
Under the sad singing
To get lost and die.
And I think: this is salvation
Even if death is called.
For centuries like steps
Rivers run, ships along them ...
And Onegin laughs: that death is to us,
If cranes fly in the sky.