Flying planes to Rostov


In the vast expanse of the Don
Glide cloud sails.
Us from childhood as Rodina,
Roads our sweet city of Rostov.

Rostov - not a name, not a word.
He - our hearts and year.
Flying planes to Rostov,
To Rostov rushing train.

I remember the heart forever,
How good the faces of friends,
Spacious avenues of the river,
Lakes and rumble areas.

And where he is now worked,
Come back to Rostov always.
Flying planes to Rostov,
To Rostov rushing train.

By the will of fate, on the orders
I also no time left
My city in lights bright-eyed
Familiar Rostov Station.

But again and again, and again
To return to him ever.
Flying planes to Rostov,
To Rostov rushing train. 1960