Текст песни Протоиерей Олег Скобля - Афон

To a distant land
Where prayers fly away.
Where angels live
In the shade of lush gardens.
I will stretch my heart
And in the wake of the bird flock,
To the singing of David's verses.

Athos, Athos, Athos, I will never see you again,
And I will not hear your bells.
And white hermitages under a tiled roof,
And the true words of your fathers.

My turn will come too
And to the golden gates of paradise
The soul will pass through the formation of invisible regiments.
In the distant blue the farewell whistle melts
Ships sailing to Russia.

Athos, Athos, Athos, I will never see you again,
And I will not hear your bells.
And white hermitages under a tiled roof,
And the true words of your fathers.

Athos, Athos, Athos, I will never see you again,
And I will not hear your bells.
And white hermitages under a tiled roof,
And the true words of your fathers.