Текст песни В воскресенье мать - старушка передачу принесла

On Sunday, the mother -old woman
To the gates of the prison came ,
His own son
Transfer brought .

And said prevratnika
sincere words
Legs tired old
40 miles on foot , I was

Give peredachku ,
And then people say :
That jails inmates
People hunger starved

And the gatekeeper responds
& quot; Your son is not,
early in the morning at sunrise
He is sent to the light & quot ;.

Turning mother -old woman ,
From the prison gates left
And no one knows about -
that in her heart she was carrying .

On Sunday, the mother -old woman
In the rush of the house is gone
and to the grave on the edge of dreams
brought flowers

I will remember you
You son is my native
in the cradle , I see you
Rest in peace dear
in the cradle , I see you
Sleep native son