Oh you, rye


In a field on the outskirts,
Where are you going,
And noise and slopes
A road rye.
Black eyes saw -
Through the field, wade,
There to meet afar
The boy goes.

Chorus:

Oh you, rye,
Sing well!
You are what you sing,
Gold rye?
Happiness will meet,
Will not pass!
Oh you, rye!

From the sky pours music -
Wind rings.
On a narrow path
they met.
Outdo each other right?
Spikelets pomnesh!
And eyes like coals,
What is it - you do not understand.

One can see the happiness equally
Could be divided -
Both are in the same direction,
Arms around each other, let's go.
Rye rustles, swings,
Can not see a trace ...
That's how it happens
In life, sometimes!

1961

Russian Soviet songs (1917-1977). Comp. N. Kryukov and I. Shvedov. M., "artist. lit. "1977
1950