Текст песни Геннадий Жуков - Из сборника скифское семя. Эолов лук

All strings of love on aeolian lyre
I am the night without love count of boredom.
But a song about the world - yes, a song about the world -
I'll play the eolian onions.

I hit empty air withs:
Pretty hateful Rifle science!
Poveyte pretty women vine -
I'll play the eolian onions.

What was for revenge - will be for the song.
Let us go down, archers of all generations -
Let bows are not made for chants -
I'll play the eolian onions.

Feathered death bowstring bother -
Do your archers natruzheny hands.
Enough! - You little ...
Enough! - Our little ...
I'll play the eolian onions.

Let justed song of all music older
I hit a string - and rebound in this sound!
Two thousand strings on the aeolian harp,
But this - the only one! - By eolian onions.