Текст песни Drummatix - Колыбельная

In the pure field of the village
Before the dawn does not sleep.
In alien edge
Bird broke up.
And they are not screwed nests
On the branches of elastic
Rain tree harvest
Picky blizzard.
- tomorrow, mom, in the morning
I reflect the wings,
Put through meadows
Over the steppe pickle.
- Mom I will find a spring
And his water
I will ask you
The village is native.
Will run the juice
Moisture
It will become a tree then
Strong and mighty.
It will bring fruit.
And then Pichuga
To him come again
From the north and south.