Текст песни Иоанн Никитин - Разговор с мамой

At the heart of the pain will not rest
The wound does not heal in it ...
Mom, Mom, we were with you
There is something to talk about.

Wipe tears and, like a bird,
She will fly to the meeting,
So that, as a child, to venerate
By the maternal shoulder.

Warm up my palms
Only your love could -
You and me from bombing
And from saved the bullets.

His body covered
Underage me
From lyutuyuschego squall
Wicked fire.

Knowing the fate we have such a -
I shudder sky
And drowning, ingesting wave
With the kids steamer.

I never will forget
That July the hour of death -
I Survived - a miracle happened,
And no one will saved.

Saved!

Nikolai Tikhonov Words
Music Pauline Zykova