Текст песни Г.В. Свиридов - Табун

Herd
In the hills of green herds horses
Putting out the nostrils of the goldfall from days.

With a hollow bugor into a blue bay
Farmed quantities of swinging grive.

Rogged the sun. Quietly on the meadow.
The shepherd plays a song on the horn.

Studying foreheads, listening to herd,
What a whirlpool gamayun sings them.

And the echo frightened, sliding on their lips,
Does them take them to unknown meadows.

Loving your day and night darkness,
You, about my motherland, folded the song Tu.

"Five choirs" on the verses of S. Yesenin