Текст песни Леонид Корнилов - Родня

Rodney

We have no light from the torch ,
And from cosmic fires.
And profit Vedic Motherland
Hummed in tales psaltery players .
But myths stiffened face Perun.
Aryan relatives away .
The harp broken strings
Hang down from the sky to the ground.
Stinks evangelical mold.
In spite scab beauty .
And do not inhale old songs
From generation to generation , by word of mouth .
They shot through bleed ,
They are in their graves without crosses ...
Only wolves moon navyli
Longing lost worlds .
Flying from the sky wedge autumn ,
Go through the soul strives -
And cry in her own way gusli
Those geese sobbing .
And sinking in an open field ,
In white light at the bottom
I hear the call of Matyora will
And my blood boils .

Leonid Kornilov