Текст песни Скомороший Бунт - Месть

Dark winds blew, brought trouble
Dropped apple tree in my garden.
Dropped apple tree broke off color.
On the grass withered black snow fell.

 
On istoptanu troops were killed,
Visits sun no longer rose.
Stars prickly pitch dark,
Not combustible scram, a tear on the cheek.
 

Not hot scram time, not yours.
What a drop dripping does not light the fire.
What handfuls thrown, the gift did not take,
When the heart knows where have you been?
 

Veda did not believe, I knew not demolished.
Lies consoled truth spared.
Oh yes, fun, hoot
Incorruptible conscience lulled.

Chernye winds blew, brought trouble.
Inscribed on the heart of a new destiny.
Clouded in mind unwholesome news.
Let the apple tree will wither, but the revenge be done.