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Bird

From your shoulder I will fly
To misty fields,
A little bird.
Hide you with my tender hands
From raging flame
And from the sword.

My sword is heavy,
The saddle on my horse.
Days, nights I traveled,
This road I belong.
Ashes behind, brave warriors dead
They slumber now in battlefields.
My pain is all I've left,
My mother's song is all I hear.

From your shoulder I will fly
To misty fields,
A little bird.
Hide you with my tender hands
From raging flame
And from the sword.

Blood is my trace on feather grass,
Eyes soon be closed, my spirit fades.
Death now has sent for me,
In arrow's whizz - my mother's song.

From your shoulder I will fly
To misty fields,
A little bird.
Hide you with my tender hands
From raging flame
And from the sword.

Lush are these grass in the field,
Wild land over miles around.
Like mother's tears it will rain in silence,
Healing all of you deadly wounds.

Then all of sudden
Wild bird flapped her wing -
Death up she covered
And sat right by me.

Lush are these grass in the field,
Wild land over miles around.
Like mother's tears it will rain in silence,
Healing all of you deadly wounds.


Contact: ksuhim@rambler.ru

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