Текст песни Раїса Кириченко - Пісня про хліб

Music Anatoly Pashkevich
According to Dmitry Lutsenko

I was a child wind waved
In the turbulent years full of anxiety.
My father once in the steppes plowed
Pristine and fragrant fallow.
My father once in the steppes plowed
Pristine and fragrant fallow.

Lay fresh furrows line
And zhayvory singing in the sky in the morning
Stale piece of bread with garlic
For me was the sweetest breakfast.

He looked at the herb autumn
In the tillage generosity abound.
Not sold, but knew the price
And the ear, and small grains.
Not sold, but knew the price
And the ear, and small grains.

I realized soul has a child
Tired father hands later,
To bore bread and bread - is the blood of life,
In labor tilling poured sweat.
To bore bread and bread - is the blood of life,
In labor tilling poured sweat.