<verse>
In a town in Sweden by a stream so clear and cool
A boy would sit and fish and dream when he should have been in school.
Now, he couldn't read or write a word but happiness he found
In a little song he heard and here's how it would sound;
<chorus>
Hut-Sut Rawlson on the rillerah and a brawla, brawla sooit,
Hut-Sut Rawlson on the rillerah and a brawla sooit.
Hut-Sut Rawlson on the rillerah and a brawla, brawla sooit,
Hut-Sut Rawlson on the rillerah and a brawla sooit.
Now the Rawlson is a Swedish town, the rillerah is a stream.
The brawla is the boy and girl,
The Hut-Sut is their dream.
Hut-Sut Rawlson on the rillerah and a brawla, brawla sooit.
Hut-Sut Rawlson on the rillerah and a brawla sooit.
Âëàäèìèð Âûñîöêèé - Áðàòñêèå ìîãèëû
Vladimir Vysotskiy - Mass GravesÍà áðàòñêèõ ìîãèëàõ íå ñòàâÿò êðåñòîâ, È âäîâû íà íèõ íå ðûäàþò, Ê íèì êòî-òî ïðèíîñèò áóêåòû öâåòîâ, È Âå÷íûé îãîíü çàæèãàþò. They don't put crosses on mass graves, And widows don't sob over them, Someone brings bouquets of flowers here, And lights the Eternal flame. Çäåñü ðàíüøå âñòàâàëà çåìëÿ íà äûáû, À íûí÷å - ãðàíèòíûå ïëèòû. Çäåñü íåò íè îäíîé ïåðñîíàëüíîé ñóäüáû - Âñå ñóäüáû â åäèíóþ ñëèòû. Here earth once stood in rows, But now there are granite slabs. Here there isn't a single personal fate - All fates were poured into one. À â Âå÷íîì îãíå âèäåí âñïûõíóâøèé òàíê, Ãîðÿùèå ðóññêèå õàòû, Ãîðÿùèé Ñìîëåíñê è ãîðÿùèé ðåéõñòàã, Ãîðÿùåå ñåðäöå ñîëäàòà. But in the eternal flame an exploding tank is visible Burning Russian huts, Burning Smolensk and burning Reichstag, A burning soldier's heart. Ó áðàòñêèõ ìîãèë íåò çàïëàêàííûõ âäîâ - Ñþäà õîäÿò ëþäè ïîêðåï÷å. Íà áðàòñêèõ ìîãèëàõ íå ñòàâÿò êðåñòîâ, Íî ðàçâå îò ýòîãî ëåã÷å? At the mass graves there are no crying widows - Stronger people come here. They don't put crosses on mass graves, But really, is it any easier?