Pushka
25-03-2007, 03:01
1978 Lesaborsk, Union of Communist Republics, 758 km south west of Voronej
For 6 years now something strange was going on in the village of Lesaborsk, in 1972 several army officers came, they brought with them equipment, built a house and brought something else...something that Lesaborsk who's young all left for the city hasn't heard in quite some time, a infant's cry. Twelve of em, all wrapped up in blankets they were brought on a large black truck of the NKVD...seeing the black trench coats the villagers knew not to ask questions. Now 6 years later, the infants who were now young boys were sitting around a campfire with their teacher, an aging man with battle scars all over his face, playing on a guitar and the words of an ancient cossack song filling the air.
http://www.kprf.ru/sound/grob/02.mp3
Чёрный ворон, что ж ты вьёшься
Да над моею головой?
Ты добычи не добьёшься
Черный ворон, я не твой.
Что ж ты когти распускаешь
Да над моею головой?
Иль добычу себе чаешь?
Я ж казак ещё живой!
Повяжу смертельну рану
Подарённым мне платком.
А потом с тобою стану
Говорить всё об одном:
Ты лети в мою сторонку
К ро́дной матушке моей
Ей скажи, моей любезной,
Что за Родину я пал.
Передай платок кровавый
Милой любушке моей
Ей скажи: она свободна:
Я женился на другой.
Взял невесту тиху-скромну
В чистом поле под кустом,
Обвенчальна была сваха
Шашка вострая моя.
Калена стрела венчала
Да насред битвы роковой
Чую, смерть моя приходит.
Чёрный ворон, весь я твой.
[Black raven why are you circling
Above my head?
You will not get your prey
Black raven Im not yours.
Why are you grappling your claws
Above my head?
You will not get your prey
I am still alive Cossack!
I'll tie up the mortal wound
With a handkerchief that I was gifted.
And then I will start
To talk to you about one thing:
You fly towards my home
To my mother
Tell her
That for Motherland I fell
Give the bloody handkerchief
To my love
Tell her - she is free
I wed to another
Took a bride, quiet-humble
In a clear field, under a bush
The wedding
Was my sharpened saber
A burning arrow was the priest
During a final battle
I sense, my death is coming,
Black raven I am yours.]
For 6 years now something strange was going on in the village of Lesaborsk, in 1972 several army officers came, they brought with them equipment, built a house and brought something else...something that Lesaborsk who's young all left for the city hasn't heard in quite some time, a infant's cry. Twelve of em, all wrapped up in blankets they were brought on a large black truck of the NKVD...seeing the black trench coats the villagers knew not to ask questions. Now 6 years later, the infants who were now young boys were sitting around a campfire with their teacher, an aging man with battle scars all over his face, playing on a guitar and the words of an ancient cossack song filling the air.
http://www.kprf.ru/sound/grob/02.mp3
Чёрный ворон, что ж ты вьёшься
Да над моею головой?
Ты добычи не добьёшься
Черный ворон, я не твой.
Что ж ты когти распускаешь
Да над моею головой?
Иль добычу себе чаешь?
Я ж казак ещё живой!
Повяжу смертельну рану
Подарённым мне платком.
А потом с тобою стану
Говорить всё об одном:
Ты лети в мою сторонку
К ро́дной матушке моей
Ей скажи, моей любезной,
Что за Родину я пал.
Передай платок кровавый
Милой любушке моей
Ей скажи: она свободна:
Я женился на другой.
Взял невесту тиху-скромну
В чистом поле под кустом,
Обвенчальна была сваха
Шашка вострая моя.
Калена стрела венчала
Да насред битвы роковой
Чую, смерть моя приходит.
Чёрный ворон, весь я твой.
[Black raven why are you circling
Above my head?
You will not get your prey
Black raven Im not yours.
Why are you grappling your claws
Above my head?
You will not get your prey
I am still alive Cossack!
I'll tie up the mortal wound
With a handkerchief that I was gifted.
And then I will start
To talk to you about one thing:
You fly towards my home
To my mother
Tell her
That for Motherland I fell
Give the bloody handkerchief
To my love
Tell her - she is free
I wed to another
Took a bride, quiet-humble
In a clear field, under a bush
The wedding
Was my sharpened saber
A burning arrow was the priest
During a final battle
I sense, my death is coming,
Black raven I am yours.]