Текст песни Песни у костра - Кукушка

Dm Gm Dm
  I often dream of my native home.
Cm D7 Gm
Wood something about their dreams.
           C7 F Bb
Grey cuckoo across the river
E7 A7 D Cm D7
How much is left to live I think.
Gm C7 F Bb
Grey cuckoo across the river
E7 A7 Dm E7 Eb7
How much is left to live I think.

Dm
I pressed gently to the flower,
Rosemary stalk flattened.
And it sounds lazy "cuckoo"
Measured out my life date.

Dream of Me fringe of flowers.
All daisies in a quiet edge.
Eighty ... Ninety ... One hundred ...
Something you become generous, cuckoo?

I long for their native land,
At its dawn and dusk.
On cold scorched earth
Sleep alarmingly Russian guys.

They spend force without stint,
They are accustomed to hunger and fatigue.
Forces do not hoard his reserve.
So tell me how many of them left ...
Forces do not hoard his reserve.
So tell me how many of them left ...

So what are you, a cuckoo, wait
I give someone else's share of someone else.
We tramp eternity ahead,
You're her old age do not confuse.

I often dream of my native home.
Wood something about their dreams.
Grey cuckoo across the river
How much is left to live I think.
Grey cuckoo across the river
How much is left to live I think.