Текст песни Мисин, Андрей - Горсть пепла

Handfuls of ashes
words - Sergei Patrushev

A handful of ashes in his hand weak:
That's all I was able to amass.
A handful of the century, where there are no frets.
In harmony with the swearing sing, I suddenly fainted.

Sing, the wind at my funeral feast.
There can be one - only to sing.
I raved about someone else's life -
For so long I was afraid to die.

Who can forbid me to be?
Who will be on my way?
Who can help me to forget?
As I whispered to myself - & quot; Sveti! & Quot ;.

Who can forbid me to be?
Who will be on my way?
Who can help me to forget?
As to myself, I cried - & quot; Sveti! & Quot ;.

A handful of the century, where there are no frets.
I hear unearthly syllable.
A handful of ashes in his hand weak:
That's all that I found I could.
That's all that I found I could.