Текст песни Песни Алой Книги - Песня Следопытов

In the night muffled whisper of spruce,
Rose is cold, like ice.
From the swamps of black gorges
A shapeless fear rises.
On the streets of peaceful villages,
Suffering from a cold and horror,
Crawling nameless shadows
But we are blocking their path.
Security unsuspecting villages
Fate assigned to us,
And the endless miles of roads -
Our house, which is open to all winds.
That throws a snow blizzard in us,
That hot dusty wind.
We rarely meet each other,
Wandering along the roads of the earth.
After all, we in Middle-bit;
At a meeting uttered: "Hello!" -
Again, we planted the road,
Wind completely level our trail.
Look at us as beggars,
The porter at the gate strong,
Contemptuously hmyknet innkeeper:
"Rolling Stone ... Raffish people!"
Smile We hide bitter:
No one knows on the ground,
What people alive in a traveling
Descendants of former Kings.
And if the ancient prophecies
Reality is destined to become,
On the banner of the White Tree
Vzmetnetsya over BATTLE again.
And again it will forge
Sword broken in the old days,
And troops break the Word
Rise from the gray shadows,
Rise Ratna force
From the screen will shake the earth,
Catching Star of Elendil
Again, on the brow of the King ...