Текст песни 210 Двести десять - Замрите, ветра полевые

Freeze, Freeze, wind field
We did not bother during mown Rye
In the morning, in the morning, I go on the road
Do you remember me, but you hear, do not wait

For the ancient land, over a blue sky
For Russian, we will go to die
Young our blood filled river
We are just waiting for death to come

But the bread will rise again spring,
And our love free birds,
Again on the field, on the field in fog at night
Brown will go for children mowed rye

Now between us endless cornfield
Yes, seven spans cold grave land
But somewhere far away, my dear, I know
In the eyes of your light I'll always live

Freeze, Freeze, wind field
We did not bother during mown Rye
In the morning, in the morning, I go on the road
Do you remember me, but you hear, do not wait