Текст песни Юлия Пересильд - Былинка

A violent wind blows
The epic thrills. The epic thrills.

Tends to the epic
The shirt dries, the shirt dries.

Dries the shirt,
He hurries to visit the mother, hurries to visit the mother.

Don't try, mother,
About my health, about my health,

And try, mother,
About my grief, about my grief.

And the first grief -
No bread, no salt, no bread, no salt.

And another grief -
No wood, no splinter, no wood, no splinter.

And the third grief -
There is no dear friend, no dear friend.

I will dispel my sorrow
On a clear field, on a clear field.

You go to Chernobyl
Black Chernobyl, Black Chernobyl.

Black Chernobyl -
Bitter wormwood, bitter wormwood.