Текст песни МАРРАДЁРЫ - Про Зайцев

In the dark blue forest, where the aspens tremble,
And foliage flies from the oak sorcerers,
Hares mowed grass in the meadow at midnight
And while they were humming strange words:
"And everything is equal to us, but everything is equal to us,
Let us be afraid of the wolf and the owl.
We have business - at the most terrible hour
We mow the magic tryn-grass. "
And the oak-sorcerers whisper something in the fog,
At the filthy swamps, someone's shadows rise;
Hares mow grass, tryn-grass in a clearing
And from fear, they sing a song more and more:
"And everything is equal to us, but everything is equal to us,
We firmly believe in the ancient rumor:
Brave will be the one who three times a year
In the most terrible hour, she mows down the grass.
But everything is equal to us, but everything is equal to us
We will become brave and more courageous than a lion
Let us stand at least once in the most terrible hour
All our misfortunes will be tryn-grass! "