Текст песни Ларыса Сімаковіч - Родная мова

Native language, language of grandfathers!
We do not hear another language with our hearts.
The sweetness of any words to us.
It's as if we enchant the soul with music.

We are outside the golden day,
Our rivers are singing waves,
Native home sacred corners
In this language the first time was called.

Our language is a date,
With a fairy tale, in a wonderful childhood dream.
Our language is the love that comes to me.

You sound like an old song,
From above the cradle, over the years of those infants;
Nightingale spill at night,
The ringing of the waves rushed down the brook.
From under the village friendly roofs

You will ring softly at dawn;
Would be girlish, crumbly laughter,
As if the first love in the heart!
Our language is a date,
With a fairy tale, in a wonderful childhood dream,

Our language is the love that comes to me.
Holy you gave us the answer,
How glorious the mansions buzzed!
You are like the sky, like the sun for us -
It was as if the garden was in bloom.

Native language, language of grandfathers!
We do not hear another language with our hearts.
The sweetness of any words to us,
As if we enchant the soul with music.