46 lines
1.1 KiB
Plaintext
46 lines
1.1 KiB
Plaintext
I have not been in the Donbass
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I have not been in the Donbass,
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Drawn to his native land,
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There, where until now remained in the reserve
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Miner my youth.
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It remained unchanged,
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Although far from me.
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There certainly lives a girl Galya
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In working his town.
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Back in town lives.
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Gal desperately beautiful,
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I notice it a mile away.
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Experienced guys staring fearfully
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On the proud beauty.
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though I have lived a lot since then,
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The Soul of the true beauty.
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In another love for what looks like
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Eyes on it Galya.
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It is similar to Galia.
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And finally, I have in the Donbass,
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Here's a little white house it ...
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The gray-haired hostess on a clean terrace
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Quietly washes linen.
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I stand on the sidelines in silence,
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Soul dies in the chest.
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Forgive me, Galina, Galina,
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I do not know why, but I'm sorry.
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I do not know why, but I'm sorry.
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I'm sorry for the cruel memory
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About your old pigtails,
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For the fact that men are the years
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Younger than his contemporaries.
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I'm sorry for those moonlit nights,
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For what is not in this land
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I searched and found a very similar
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On my proud youth
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On long your youth. |