Текст песни Птица Тылобурдо - Остров

(Zinaida Sarsadskih) *
No fluff, no pen nor forgiven words
No need to do anything, no traces.
The island of empty, expensive,
Two boys are on the cutting edge of water.
On the island on there is nothing
What would be dark, it would be tight,
The heating rolled in the sand sloped,
Embrace us with elbows to the feet drenched.
Three women holding rolled three pitchers,
Spoon the sand, the sand, the water of the river,
And two of them are stored in jars ocarina,
A third will not allow the helplessness of his hands.
Slopes of sand, and not spit jets.
Living water on the trail of clouds
Hastening forward soon to follow, dash away
Of all earthly shackles, it is sloping coasts.