Текст песни Minaret - Сказание о колоколе отчаянном

Don, don, don!
Mournful ringing
In agony it trembles
Scolds the gnawed veche,
In a string bag, floundering with mischief!
Come on!
Foolish mocker,
Eyeless mares
Save,
Grow up trashy
Generation,
Klyannaya
Plow the cradle!
Sew my mouth with oak thread,
Pull the moderate cassock ...!
Yes, so that the rebellious vilified later! "-
The robbed bell howled with a start ...
Gorlan!
Call me with a broom
Call me ...
Gorlan!
Tempt the shameless
Tempt ...
Loose disease of a chopped hut,
The vanity of everyday life
She took refuge in a good earth
Where the beggar and the noble breathe crimson dreams,
Fervently reveling in the depth ...