Текст песни Иван Кучин - 02. Куст рябины

Again I dreamed of our cottage:
I lie in bed, sick,
And the mother leaned over me,
He touched his hand to his forehead.
The window - a bush of a mountain ash, road,
The river winds its way as a snake ...
And the voice, the gentle and austere:
Son, you become very bad ...

Oh, Mama, life was cruel
And because I'm so sick,
What I'm lonely without you
And it's very scary without you.

My son, do not be afraid,
Not death in this life is terrible.
You've become in some ways to understand,
I do not need you.
You grew up, you make me happy,
I was waiting for you all year.
Now, because of you I am calm
The crude grave forever.

And I began to dream road
And Rowan bush over the river,
And gradually the pain goes away
Under the warm mother's hand.