Текст песни Михаил Щербаков - Восточная песня 1

Twelve moon on my banner,
And the shell is solid, and sword hard.
I am a knight-shadow, wandering riding
in green as overgrown with water
edge; and the blades lying around
Konya and me the eyes of Zavolok.

I follow the invisible path,
Listening to the sky and to thick
foliage - but most likely
that the sky will not say anything to me.
And the jungle will not say anything to me.

But only the beast runs sometimes
aside, ting and stepping easily,
brazing from small barbed plants
Long wound ...

My light horse is braveled and wing,
He is young - and therefore Sillen.
He better hears what they say
trunks and every new fragrance
he, horse, clearer the stock edge,
than me. But I am transparent, like him.

I, too, myth, although not such
rapid like this young
The horse that does not know
That the sky will not say anything.
And the jungle will not say anything.

And only the bird flashes sometimes,
Flipped to Fallen Dark Wildlife
that very much where
how much would i wander
hardly happy ...

And in that wilderness, the centuries are unharmed,
Standing slashes - sleepless accommodation.
There is a virgin shadow, transparent as smoke,
Nights not sleeping under the shelter herbal.
And wet wind with dry wood
Sing it over the habitat.

She is not sleeping. And the tree creaks
All the complaints until she sleeps
And crying - probably because
That the sky does not say anything.
And the jungle will not say anything to her.

But only thunder sometimes
that two over the roof of it
Promising all continent
Big rains in February
And hot summer ...