Мёртвые души - Отрывок - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Is it not so you, Russia, that a brisk non -accurate three rushing? Smoke smokes under you road, the bridges rattles, everything is lagging behind and remains behind. The contemplator struck by God's miracle stopped: is it not lightning, dropped from the sky? What does it mean that is a terrifying movement? And what kind of unknown force is contained in these horses unknown by light? Eh, horses, horses, what a horses! Are they sitting in your mane? Is the ear sensitive in all your veins? They heard a familiar song from the embroidery, together and at once strained copper breasts and, almost without touching the hooves of the earth, turned into some elongated lines flying through the air, and all inspired by God rushes! .. Russia, where are you rushing? Give an answer. Does not give an answer. A bell is poured with a wonderful ringing; thunders and becomes the wind torn into pieces of air; Everything that is on the lands flies past, and, squinting, fixes and give her way other peoples and states.