Текст песни Седьмая вода - Умереть На Пасху

I want to die at Passover,
Sad heavenly miracle
And a glass of matured mash
Finally comforted flesh

To me, on the road to the Spasskaya
Picked up by strangers
And they said, "Lucky stroller
In light holiday cleaned Lord. "

Nothing that they do not believe
Neither Christ nor in the other tales
And there are sometimes rude,
But do not be sad nor just.

Two feet of land measured out
Wondering wait for Easter
And kissing each other on the lips,
If they want me to remember.

So it will not lie shivering
Under chants Grachinoye songs
In the country where the fuel willow
And the sand is white headboard.

Where God forgotten grandmother
Prayed: "Christ is Risen!"
People will say: "It was a happy
And it repented the LORD. "