Текст песни Лора Московская - Обряд

In the vast field under clear skies
The white robes are native.
The wreaths braided grass steppe
It has long been withered and smell hay.
And hands folded everlasting sign,
And murky haze veiled eyes,
What will never see the night
While asserting mouth those around:
Avenge me wash the blood!
Spend the ritual in the open field,
Do not hold yourself. Shout plenty ...
Scarlet beads vpletutsya in braids,
Vlasov will fall quietly on his back ...
The color of the clan - colored clay -
Do not wash away your tears miserly.
And on the threshold of big baskets
Under the guise of mourning - a bloody cane.
Spring noise eternal coolness
And repeats almost inaudibly:
Avenge me wash the blood!
Spend the ritual in the open field,
Do not hold yourself. Shout plenty ...
Scoop arm damp earth,
Sprinkle it alive blood,
You tasted like an eternal pain
I swim sin incorruptible.
Izorvi itself all clothes
Cry that I left you,
Put me on the grave stone,
As a pledge of hope for the dead.
Avenge the death and sing a song.
Let the voice of the heart is broken ...
In the real world has no doors,
Everything always goes only into the ground ...
Avenge me wash the blood!
Spend the ritual in the open field.
Do not hold yourself. Shout plenty ....