22 lines
628 B
Plaintext
22 lines
628 B
Plaintext
My field, the field
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Mine field, a field, the field of gold,
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You are former mountain in the wind scatter.
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Upon thee, field, blue sky -
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The sky of my homeland.
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We meet the morning with a cheerful song,
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And the ring over a field of our voices.
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And carries the song on the collective farm villages,
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The second song of the river and the forest.
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Upon thee, field, flying birds -
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Due to the blue sea to distant lands -
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And carried on the wings of fog border
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Songs that folded my motherland.
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If the storm clouds gather
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And it plays a storm over my country,
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Propoosh you, field, battle songs,
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And proskachet field horse battle! 1937 |