Текст песни Вадим Фомин - письма с фронта

windows and doors boarded up the cross
I got married today meltwater
dirty snow under a broomstick
letters from the front goes nowhere

letters from the front left anyone
but a string of days through a thick fog
whether God Peremetnoe in the bag
whether the line in a leaky pocket

feather grass steppe so fresh breeze
in blackened with soot glass
Ah, for whom are you crying, silence, for whom
who returned and who are not lucky

who have gone beyond the invisible line
who slept in a damp piece of land forever
letters from the front carried off the void
letters from the front goes nowhere