Текст песни Александр Сергеевич Пушкин - Полтава

And hit the battle, Poltava fight!
On fire, under hail hot,
Animal wall reflected
Over the fallen building of the Fresh Stroy
The bayonets are closed. Litter cloud
Fucks of the cavalry of bat
Brazdes, Sabers Sound,
Skaching out from the shoulder.
Throwing piles bodies on his pile,
Cast iron balls everywhere
Between them jump, sink,
Prahi dig and in the blood are hung.
Swede, Russian - Kolts, Rubit, cuts.
Fight drum, clicks, crosses,
Thunder cannons, Topot, Rzhanye, moan,
And death and hell on all sides.