Текст песни Сергей Титов - Ржавые листья

From black bread and faithful wife
We greensickness infected ...

Hoof and stone tested years
Immortal wormwood soaked water -
And the bitterness of wormwood on our lips ...
We have a knife - not a brush,
Pen - not to their liking,
Kirk - not for honor
And the glory - not to glory:
We - rusty leaves
On rusty oaks ...
A little wind,
Slightly north -
And we fly around.
Whose is the way we are now littered him?
Whose feet on our will rust?
Do we Potopchut young trumpeters?
Whether we ascend above the constellations of others?
We - rusty leafless oaks comfort ...
Homeless chill comfort inflate ...
We're leaving in the night!
We're leaving in the night!
How ripe stars, flying at random ...
Above us rattle young trumpeters,
Above us back constellations of others,
Above us the wrong flags noisy ...
A little wind,
Slightly north -
Pluck them,
Nesites them,
Chase them
Roll in the fields,
Sings in the steppes!
For the shine of the bayonet, flying in the clouds,
Over the sound of hooves in dens dense,
For pipe song, sunk in the woods ...

Edward Bagritsky