Доктор Александров - Я Не Я
текст песни

The winds wander across the field,
My tormenting body
And what do they find -
A layer of dust that has settled
On my torn leaves,
On my broken stems,
Yes, my root is tired,
Not washed by rain for a long time.
I can't get out of my place -
The earth holds so tightly.
I'm destined to stay
Patching your clothes
In this very place -
My native patch of land,
In lifelong arrest,
Yes, be scorched by the sun.

And I'm tired
Yes, God sees
that I'm tired
Caress the roads
What they lead is not a pedestal.
And I dreamed
Yes, God sees
What I dreamed
That I will be needed
I realized it was in vain and stopped.

After all, I am a feather grass at your feet,
I swallow the eternal dust of the roads.
And my brother plantain is happy,
That it grows at the road gates,
And my sister is wormwood grass
She says that she is the only one right.
And my mother knows the news
Gives again what will wait
Me as I am.
She doesn't care what I am...

Hey winds, bring
I have a thundercloud,
Whether in a sieve or in a sieve,
Do you hear me calling?
With your beaten body
I pray from heaven for moisture
Yes, in a timid whisper
Please give me courage.
Verena sang to me,
What is left to wait a little,
Yes, it’s a pity that I didn’t have time
See what you got
To my neck from the sky,
And on my cheeks -
Felonie of plague snow,
Yes, sackcloth that is worn
It was for me

And I’m not me, my bag,
I won't give up on you.
The land is native, there is only one prison,
Everything is overgrown with feather grass to the bottom.
Forgive me, mother,
Sinful fool
His unlucky son,
But I’m unlikely to return to you -
I will live out my misfortune.
I'm local now -
To become a charm
Now I have one
Whom to cover up.
Bless me, mother,
Cross me, father.
Order an icon according to my height,
Put a stamp on my belt.
Order an icon according to my height
Yes, put a stamp on it.

I didn’t understand Rus' with my mind,
I won't bother with a yardstick.
I’ll whisper a prayer
And I will leave Churapcha.
I am not kidding,
It makes no sense for me to grimace -
I haven't been the same for three years now.
I feel the elders will pray
In the monastery to find out
Why are you driving me through the waters with a pitchfork?
Write so that you don’t forget,
So that in a prophetic dream I dream,
So that Tara is not washed away by the rain,
I take a drag from my herbal tea.

After all, I am a feather grass at your feet,
I swallow the eternal dust of the roads.
And my brother plantain is happy,
That it grows at the road gates,
And my sister is wormwood grass
She says that she is the only one right.
And my mother knows the news
Gives again what will wait
Me as I am.
She doesn't care what I am...
She does not care,
What am I...