17 lines
447 B
Plaintext
17 lines
447 B
Plaintext
Dorozhen'ka
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Winds, winds distant Dorozhen'ka,
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Haze spreads over the horizon,
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And this by far Dorozhen'ka
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Following the sweet food I to the front.
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It is increasingly more often, more often dream of me
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How goes the battle with shelves and smoke ...
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He rose, rushed I birds,
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I sat down next to him.
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Winds, winds away my Dorozhen'ka,
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Outside the window becomes the dawn.
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I'm alone, alone I stand at the poplars,
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And pity the heart - wings net.1941 |