Текст песни Crista Plumbum - Пены Плен

Uninhabited island of the water,
In that year there,
The old man, leaving his people,
Hermit lives.

He sits every single day
On the foam stump
And contemplating looking away
On the foam on the wave.

He sees in the foam tinsel
Material goods,
What is arising in the wind -
That turned into ashes.

By the will of the wind wave away
Have aspiration
Only a few, sometimes
Attracts over with.

Previous Ocean will
At the end of the path to appear:
What promises fun -
Will not attract.

The wave reached the turn,
Leave a trail of foam
On the shore, she escaped ...
The tomb no pockets.

Plume