Текст песни Борис Вахнюк - Песня об отце

The song is about his father

                  Boris Vahnyuk

It is the right word
I must now find ...
Go out the window in the houses of the village,
I do not stub out the window, I'm waiting.
Indeed, in light of this alarming
By land from end to end
So many years, so many years
You come to me, Father.

You're the same as was then,
Only forelock thinned slightly,
Only silver beard,
Only the blue scar on his temple.
You you take your guitar,
I thought - you take my ...
You sing me your song,
I thought - my singing ...

So many years of lying funeral,
So many years assures me
What's in the snow at the Karelian marshes
I broke your trails;
For so many years I do not fly over the Dnieper,
Over the road of your voice is your ...
And gathering dust in the archives of the reservation,
I do not use you.

Along the way your flowers,
And above it all blew whistles.
And, perhaps, you are dead,
I went to you.
But no! Funeral lying.
You told me himself: & quot; Do not believe! & Quot;
You live. You are standing at the gate.
Have you open the door.