Текст песни Андрій Куликов - Двух родных языков не бывает

Mother tongue of my friends
No luck: he put out of fashion
And put in the Ethnographic Museum,
Where not everyone and not often walks.

As it is simple: grandfather towel
Pick up the glass and by posting on the wall,
Guests to the window sum for a moment,
And forget the road gradually.

Language of friends, among other languages
Not the best and not the worst, just - equal,
In the paddock of obsolete labels
Who frighten wayward force?

You cripple, if jokingly;
You - the victim under the ax of the bureaucrat.
But quietly and naturally a child
I whispered in the morning: "I want to sleep, a tattoo."

As it comes easily to the sound,
As a mischievous little eyes narrowed.
Language of my friends, my good friend,
Now you - the joy of my child.

And what would have spoken about my
"Great and mighty" Russian language,
Do not become any richer than her, nor fair,
While friends are not straightened his shoulders.

We humans are changing, like rivers,
As long as we do not hold down the ice floe.
And his daughter, kissing the eyelids,
I say: "vzhe godі sleep ditino".