Текст песни Анатолий Кашепаров и Песняры - Спадчына

From ancestors the rest of the ages
I am left with a legacy;
Between one's own and strangers
She is my mother's grace.
I am afraid of fairy tales and dreams about her
Spring protalins,
I forest rustle September,
And in the field the oak is burnt.
I am reminded of her
On the linden stork chattered
And that old amshal tyn,
That lay down near the villages downhill;
And that boring lamb
Bleeding-call in the pasture,
And the cry of crows
In the cemetery cemetery.
My family lives with him
And dreams with him are irreducible…
My legacy is called
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