Song about lapwing


A road lapwing, the road lapwing,
He shouts, waves eccentric:
"Oh, tell me, whose you are, ah, tell you whose
And why, why you're going here? "

Do not shout, winged, do not worry you for nothing,
Let us enter, we are not in your green garden.
You see, we are the guys we - winged friends
And your, your not touch lapwing.

The sky is blue, meadow grass rustles,
You choose any path.
This - our with you, all of us dear,
This is our, dear, dear, beloved land.

And when it blooms, and when he calls
We're leaving in the long journey.
On steppe latitudes, through the ford of the river
The entire country, the country we want proyti.1947