Текст песни колыбельная - Песни вьюга поёт

When the mother is in the cradle
He puts his son at night,
Under the window for him
The blizzard sings songs.
And rampant bad weather
From an early age he loved
And the hero grows
What a stained oak.
Sprinkle, winter,
Until spring is golden
Silver over the fields
Holy Russia!