A song about a deserted native village where a man returned years later ... Worn out and destroyed wooden houses, ingrown into thick nettles ... dried wells ... and a feeling of utter ruin and hopelessness ... Enjoy your listening!
Poems: Ruslan Kosach
Music: Alexander Zakshevsky
Arrangement and mixing: Alexander Zakshevsky
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SONG TEXT
1.
Slow down, driver, well, wait,
I will go out here, I have nowhere to hurry.
You at the well stand me if you can
I would use the water of the cold now!
Thank you, friend, very grateful!
Come on, drive! Bon Voyage!
And I will go, come, not yet a master,
And, if not, so forgive me!
Chorus:
A tear rolled down, I turned away,
I have not been here for a long time
The village, I often dreamed of you!
My home is my own, my porch!
2
The car ran away and disappeared
I opened my collar wider.
Something became air to me, suddenly, a little,
And he began to choke, like an old man.
Abandoned courtyards are everywhere
The well is empty, there is not even a bucket in it.
The three houses here are residential in the whole district,
The whole village, as if, died.
Chorus:
A tear rolled down, I turned away,
I have not been here for a long time
The village, I often dreamed of you!
My home is my own, my porch!
3
To tell the truth, brothers, shuddered,
The speech was lost, I stood numb.
And on the left, behind, in front and on the right,
Homes have grown into thick nettles.
And my worth is abandoned, broken,
A short distance away, right beside, to the side.
Abandoned by everyone, forgotten by me,
But he, as before, is very dear to me !!!
Chorus:
A tear rolled down, I turned away,
I have not been here for a long time!
The village, I often dreamed of you,
My home is my own, my porch!
The village, I often dreamed of you,
My home is my own, my porch!
26 апр 2016
