Текст песни Смута - Мор

Hand mora hug the ground,
Death settle in deep wells,
Dance of fire to bring the village,
In the fields to sow weeds grain.
On the overgrown tracks nivah wolf paw -
The smell of rotting beckons them to himself.
With swollen belly has fallen into a ravine,
Sdohnuv from hunger, the old nag.

Oh, nothing but the melt water.
They came to our land mount yes trouble.
The empty windows wind howling hungry dog.
The bins, susekam nonche rolled ball.

Rustle under the floor of the rat paw,
Explode gray stream infection,
Dirt and disease, hunger and the stench,
Make a joyless existence.
Bent under the weight of a number of years,
The whitish her eyes stand tears.
With the baby in breast old woman sitting -
Three fresh graves came to visit Mora ...