Текст песни Алексей Городецкий - Белый волк

On crimson glade, in seven of the birches,
Before Wolf circle.
Behind - the cliff.
Lone lived, did not touch different animals,
Still only had enough
Wolf jackals.

White Wolf said jackals:
- Here is my land!
A carrion you tired,
Now I need? -
Eyes lit up green,
Fangs,
Disperse whining jackal
Chilling roar.

The shreds of gray mist
Dawn rot away.
A sloping field
It was an uneven trail.
Step increasingly becoming
Along the Great River -
He hurried back to where
They came aliens ...

I recoiled night from the field,
Stone shook -
The White Wolf of blood drunk
Enemy's throat tore.

In a pile of dead bodies clung
to death
Silence...
The red puddles disappeared
Black
Moon.

The shreds of gray mist
Dawn rot away.
A sloping field
It was an uneven trail.
Step increasingly becoming
Along the Great River -
He hurried back to where
They came aliens ...

The shreds of gray mist
Dawn rot away.
A sloping field
It was an uneven trail.
Step increasingly becoming
Along the Great River -
He hurried back to where
They came aliens ...