духовный стих - Ветка - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Are you a poor branch, where are you sailing? Beware, unhappy, go to the sea! There you can not cope with the violet wave, as a kind of a poor with a pride of human. Will overcome, but you are like you work! Far will die you, branch, beware! - Why do I take care of me? - Vetzkin was the answer. - I'm already the hardwood, there is no life in me. From his native village, the wind tear off, let him now carry, where the tree wants me. I do not mind, I wish for me, because with the Rami Drops do not fight again.