Текст песни K.F. - Песнь о гречневой каше

Collective Farm worker says,
Sweating trailing mlat:
-Svarila Buckwheat to me docha
Without buckwheat -That hurts smooth.
Yes, the memory alive human,
Our Hellenes bow!
We remember how the amphora from the Greek
Mikula handed Apollo.
Since then, in the fields of black earth,
And they have no numbers in Russian!
Do not whip maize borrowed,
Shyly buckwheat grew.
Oh, hot days of the field,
Among fire labor
The first inflorescence buckwheat
You gently whispered, "Yes."
First! Even though I was not the first ...
Buckwheat converged on us ...
How nice - in our Rosrezerv
Her endless supply!
Marching with pots column
And Grechnev sun rises!
Hey, aside crabs, ham,
Russian porridge goes!

11.21.14 Vadim Zhuk