Текст песни Олег Немировский - Плач по соловью

How sad it is, after all, friends,
That we don't have a nightingale in Siberia.
Although other birds - chickens do not peck,
Will sparrows and woodpeckers sing a lot?

How unfairly we were treated:
There are no crayfish for beer, salt - heaps.
Citrus fruits are also not shisha.
What is our holiday? Only wild garlic ...

There, on the Black Sea, warm water,
Ladies in Evpatoria wander without shame.
And in Siberia, a woman in a coat for a whole year -
No matter how you touch it, it's still not that.

Let's take Havana - the sea and the beaches:
He plopped down like in a bath, got out and lay down.
Go and try to flop into Baikal!
I then hiccupped with chills all day.

We, too, brothers, people are not walruses,
But where to go, somewhere to live.
Let it be warm in Algeria, in the Congo, the fruit is dark,
But Siberia has a long winter.

You won't find snow in Botswana during the day with fire,
And here he knocks ... Yes to hell with him, with the nightingale!