Текст песни Андрей Чернышёв - Я пою из Афганистана

Do not forget the hot coals,
When here I look at the fire,
The same tea in the pot, and those hands,
Roasting, compress it.
Do not forget I had those nights,
That forest, that a tent paradise
Do not even compare to the beach at Sochi,
What is there to think about how to live - so play.
I played and watched in these individuals,
Their eyes reflected the fire,
Do not remain in the shadow of them, to hide,
Everything is fair and right in the face.
And in his hands clutching a guitar,
Each sang there is nothing - else,
As if fate whose -That leaves,
And the soul is filled with warmth.
How pleasant Wait a film remembering
What's in the forest in broad melodies, lights,
In halt its finishing his tea,
Amid umolkshih, extinct coals
That's all the warm meeting,
I wanted to give you now ...
We are moving in the same evening here
With the machine, but in the same hands.
We are moving in the same evening here
With the machine, but in the same hands.
                               
Anab 1987.