Текст песни Легенда о Камне - Соки земли

No one nothing
Everything that was gone here,
This is a riddle for us,
Those who lived here at this hour.

Squeezed juices of land,
Sold sprouts sold
We never understand
What you wanted to create here.

The hour of walling,
No bride groom
We never know
Where are our honest to know.

Celebrates the summer people
He calls us to the dance,
We are not given to predict
Where is the grace waiting for us.