Текст песни Людмила Зыкина - Деревенское детство моё

Get lost in the fog trees
The sun rises to the zenith.
And on a red hill village
In the middle is Russia.
Here, on the benches grandfathers jokingly
About his recall habitation.
It dives into the creek off the cliff
Rustic my childhood.
Rustic my childhood.

From fire rooster combs
Lights Dawn away.
Dizzy smell of raindrops,
The smell of hay and warm the earth.
There buckets rattle the well,
Mad wind whips the laundry.
Here in the snow on a sled rushing
Rustic my childhood.
Rustic my childhood.
Poured into the accordion club,
Yellow month bent into an arc.
And tired horses grazing
On a cool and wet meadow.
It gave me the land as an inheritance -
You would not survive without it ...
It is written forever childhood,
Rustic my childhood!
Rustic my childhood!