.. where the words are distant
and the roads are long,
where the fields are green,
nightingale songs ...
Secondary school, junior grades,
A beautiful voice of a distant childhood.
I finish the food of the our so called "royal table", pour a little wine and the record is tired of playing music,
I don't remember her at all, a strange woman named Sarochka.
As always, starting the conversation from Egypt,thousands of years have always been yesterday.
Well, I would not have come here at all, but once the stars were shining for both of us.
Then, we put these stars on dresses, and couned days as sunrises, I started to sing about a kind country that I had never seen.
I think right now, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, for these people who went through the war,
we were their last battle.
We were simple, spoiled,
Dressed nicely, cheerful,
We grew up freely, all loved,
And what can I say, we were completely different from those girls.
We sat together on an old bench, it was our last meeting.
Our roads will find you if necessary, and you will answer if you want.
Well, don't be bored, remember us sometimes.
Give your child our name.
Simple words, we didn't have much to talk about.Well, what can I give, for you to know, we thought about you and love,
If you want, I will give you country that you have not seen before.
