Текст песни Ибрагимов Шамиль - радость

Glad, glad, glad
Light birches
And on them with joy
Roses grow.

Glad, glad, glad
Dark aspens
And on them with joy
Oranges are growing.

It didn’t rain out of the cloud
And not hail
That rained down from the cloud
Grapes

And crows over the fields
Suddenly, the nightingales began to sing.

And streams from the ground
Sweet honey flowed.

Chickens became pavas,
Bald - curly.

Even the mill - and that
Danced at the bridge.