27 lines
825 B
Plaintext
27 lines
825 B
Plaintext
Like the old oak
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Like an old oak forest on Krynica,
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Horses hooves beat, mane rustle.
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We rode, rode villages, village,
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In over the quiet Don, on the Don steppe.
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He sang in the bushes crimson Nightingale Nightingale
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Yes rustling leaves are slender poplar.
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Rising sun, the young sun,
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We were greeted songs, songs in the fields.
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Oh, you wide steppe, the breadbasket of the collective farm,
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Edge darling, happy, good to live in it!
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Going we kazachenki, ride, red stars,
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The cavalry of Budyonny we're going to serve!
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How come, say we combat Marshal:
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"We are here to defend our homeland.
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Neither land nor travushki or spaciousness of our
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Foreign vorogov in life can not see! "
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Horses hooves beat on forest Krynica.
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Posedlali cavalry steeds.
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We rode, rode villages, village,
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On-Don over the quiet along the native steppes. 1938 |