Текст песни Леонид Сергеев - Ой, бегут, бегут лошадки

Oh , running, running horses , round and round to nowhere
In horses bread is not sweet, with sugar trouble now ,

   Yes, unless there is only in this case , now in the souls of disagreement ,
   Gray stone solidified sense of disaster.

And can go directly dispersed in the circle,
And let the dance tune with trotters , on the run,

   To stay behind painted mirages
   To cracked gray stone from the movements of the soul ,

After all, until the horses are running , with warm air to breathe,
Everything seemed to be in order , and the soul is still alive .