Текст песни Владимир Скобцов - Песня о тройке

Bottom mud on top of the snow,
Like the ringing of bells.
It triples the run
Without beginning or end.
                Hey, coachman, look!
                You're taking us somewhere?
                Whether up, or down,
                Toll generally nowhere.
Yes, the driver, my friends, sleeping,
The Lord Gave scoundrel.
And not by sitting us
Do not see the person.
                Who's under the mountain
                Let go three at a gallop?
                Whether a new hero,
                That l permanent executioner?
And the sunset blood
Shadow black crosses,
And sings about love
A flock of gray wolves.
                They sing together -
                It hurts a good song,
                Whether the night, or the devil,
                Whether our soul.
And leaps from intoxicating
Flaming cheek,
Above the native side
Drunk nonsense driver.
                Whether the abyss, or the firmament
                From pole to pole.
                Whether life, or death,
                Whether our fate.