Текст песни Сергей Маевский - Белая гладь

1 .
Colca frost yes white surface,
It stretches into the distance and can not see the end ,
and I remember sitting with a gypsy campfire ,
playing guitar, string rang .
2 .
He sang to me about the cold , about a white surface,
how he went to where the end is not in sight.
He sang , and I listened , my eyes were burning ,
he wounded my soul , burning with tears.
3 .
I've been looking for this white surface,
and here she is , she can not see the end .
I'm going to freeze like a breeze from the fields ,
and I hear the guitar gypsy blood .