Northern History

To the far north, where the frosts are,
In that cold camp on the stage.
The guy drove the young
Angry and frozen soldiers.
The guy was driven in the early morning,
The guy was eighteen years old.
And in this zone there is a thief in law,
He was strictly responsible for everything.
The old thief was wise, just,
He could not stand where he was no lawlessness.
But thieves were scouring the zone,
And this time he did not charcoal.
The guy didn’t like the urges right away,
For his prickly, proud disposition.
They constantly beat and hounded,
Sometimes he was right or wrong.

But he sparkled with gray eyes,
And he fought back as best he could all the time.
And they got him in the spring,
And he ran into a cold knife.
And a week later, in a flood,
A thief will open a letter from a woman.
The woman who is free
But he loved madly for a long time.

Chorus: A blizzard over the camp, circled and sang,
And she rushed to the towers, frightening the soldiers.
And over the camp the sun, for a long time, did not warm,
And in the spring, even birds don't fly here.

I remembered the thief of my native Moscow region,
A girl with cheerful eyes.
The whole letter breathed only pain
Soaked in bitter tears.
I found you and wrote
Because the son is in trouble.
And now by chance I found out
That you divide one zone.

I hid from you all the time
Ours alone raised a son.
Why didn't she tell
There was nothing to it and a shame.
And now he's in camp with you
Fate has its own script.
And he will not soon be released,
I beg my son to help.

The thief found that grave in the field,
Where the son was recently buried.
All the time the convicts were buried here,
The gray crosses around were silent.
The old thief stood in the cold snow,
The wind tore his gray hair.
A tear froze on his cheek,
The smoke from the cigarette flew away. Northern history

In the far north, where the cold,
In the cold camp stage.
A young boy driven
Angry and stilled soldiers.
Boy drove early in the morning,
It was eighteen years old guy.
And in this area kingpin,
Strictly and for all to answer.
Old thief was wise, just,
Not where he suffered no outrage.
But thieves scoured the area,
And this time he did not ugledel.
Man thieves did not immediately vzljubili,
For his prickly, proud character.
Constantly beaten and bullied,
Sometimes he was right or wrong.

But he shone gray eyes,
And how could all the time struggled.
And they got it in the spring,
And he ran on a cold knife.
A week later, in the flood,
A thief will open a letter from a woman.
Women who are on the outside,
But he loved madly, and for a long time.

Chorus: A storm over the camp, spinning and singing,
And I rushed to the tower, frightening soldiers.
And over the camp the sun had long since not warmed,
And in the spring, even the birds do not fly here.

He remembered the thief native Moscow,
Woman with funny eyes.
All letter breathed only pain,
Impregnated with bitter tears.
I found you and wrote,
Because the son was in trouble.
And now I accidentally learned
What do you divide one zone.

I always hid from thee,
Our one raised her son.
Why not tell
It is nothing to ashamed.
And now he is in the camp with you,
We see a scenario fate.
And he is not going out into the wild,
I beg his son help.

Find the thief in the grave,
Where is the son of the recently buried.
Here all the time prisoners were buried,
Gray crosses around in silence.
Old thief stood in the cold snow,
Gray hair wind tore.
On his cheek a tear frozen,
Smoke from cigarettes flew.

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To the far north, where the frosts are,
In that cold camp on the stage.
The boy drove the young
Angry and frozen soldiers.
The guy was driven in the early morning,
The guy was eighteen years old.
And in this zone there is a thief in law,
He was strictly responsible for everything.

The old thief was wise, just,
Had not tolerated no where he is lawlessness.
But thieves scoured the zone,
And this time he did not charcoal.
The guy didn’t like the urges right away,
For his prickly, proud disposition.
They constantly beat and hounded,
Sometimes he was right or wrong.

But he sparkled with gray eyes,
And he fought back as best he could all the time.
And they got him in the spring,
And he ran into a cold knife.
And a week later, in a flood,
A thief will open a letter from a woman.
The woman who is free
But he loved madly for a long time.

Chorus:

I remembered the thief of my native Moscow region,
A girl with cheerful eyes.
The whole letter breathed only pain
Soaked in bitter tears.
I found you and wrote
Because the son is in trouble.
And now by chance I found out
That you divide one zone.

I hid from you all the time
We were raising our son alone.
Why didn't she?
There was nothing to it and a shame.
And now he's in camp with you
Fate has its own script.
And he will not soon be released,
I beg my son to help.

Chorus:
And over the camp a blizzard, circled and sang,
And she rushed to the towers, frightening the soldiers.
And over the camp the sun, for a long time, did not warm,
And in the spring, even birds don't fly here.

The thief found that grave in the field,
Where the son was recently buried.
All the time the convicts were buried here,
The gray crosses around were silent.
The old thief stood in the cold snow,
The wind tore his gray hair.
A tear froze on his cheek,
The smoke from the cigarette flew away.

Chorus:
And over the camp a blizzard, circled and sang,
And she rushed to the towers, frightening the soldiers.
And over the camp the sun, for a long time, did not warm,
And in the spring, even birds don't fly here.

Lyrics translation Hera Grach - Northern History

Ha far north where the cold,
On that cold camp on stage.
Drove a young boy
Angry and have stood the soldiers.
Boy drove early in the morning,
It was eighteen years old guy.
And in this area kingpin,
Strictly and for all to answer.

Old thief was wise, just,
Not where he suffered no outrage.
Ho scoured the area for thieves,
And this time he did not ugledel.
Man thieves did not immediately vzlyubili,
For his prickly, proud character.
Constantly beaten and harassed,
Sometimes he was right or wrong.

Ho he flashed gray eyes,
And how could all the time, fought back.
And they got it in the spring,
And he ran on a cold knife.
A week in the flood,
Thief will open letter from a woman.
Women who will,
Ho loved insanely long ago.

Chorus:

He remembered the thief native Balkans,
Woman with funny eyes.
The whole letter breathed only pain
Steeped in bitter tears.
I found you, and wrote,
When the son was in trouble.
And now I found out by accident,
What do you share the same zone.

I always hid from thee,
Hashego raised her son alone.
Why did not you tell?
Were it not for what and ashamed.
And now he "s in camp with you,
It can be seen in the fate of his script.
And he will not soon go free,
Beg her son help.

Chorus:
A storm over the camp, spinning and singing,
And rushed to the towers, scaring the soldiers.
And over the camp the sun had long since not warmed,
And in the spring, even the birds do not fly here.

Found that a thief in the grave,
When was the son buried.
Here all the time prisoners were buried,
Gray crosses around silent.
Old thief was cold in the snow,
Hair white wind tore.
Ha cheek a tear frozen,
The smoke from the cigarette flew.

Chorus:
A storm over the camp, spinning and singing,
And rushed to the towers, scaring the soldiers.
And over the camp the sun had long since not warmed,
And in the spring, even the birds do not fly here.

To the far north, where the frosts are,
In that cold camp on the stage.
The guy drove the young
Angry and frozen soldiers

The guy was driven in the early morning,
The guy was eighteen years old.
And in this zone there is a thief in law,
He was strictly responsible for everything.

The old thief was wise, just,
Had not tolerated no where he is lawlessness.
But thieves scoured the zone,
And this time he did not charcoal.

The guy didn’t like the urges right away,
For his prickly, proud disposition.
They constantly beat and hounded,
Sometimes he was right or wrong.

But he sparkled with gray eyes,
And he fought back as best he could all the time.
And they got him in the spring,
And he ran into a cold knife.

And a week later, in a flood,
A thief will open a letter from a woman.
The woman who is free
But he loved madly for a long time.

\ nA blizzard over the camp circled and sang,
\ nAnd rushed to the towers, frightening the soldiers.
\ nAnd over the camp the sun hasn't warmed for a long time,
And in the spring, even birds don't fly here

I remembered the thief of my native Moscow region,
A girl with cheerful eyes.
The whole letter breathed only pain
Soaked in bitter tears.

I found you and wrote
Because the son is in trouble.
And now by chance I found out
That you divide one zone.

I hid from you all the time
We were raising our son alone.
Why didn't she?
There was nothing to it and a shame.

And now he's in camp with you
Fate has its own script.
And he will not soon be released,
I beg my son to help.

The thief found that grave in the field,
Where the son was recently buried.
All the time the convicts were buried here,
The gray crosses around were silent.

The old thief stood in the cold snow,
The wind tore his gray hair.
A tear froze on his cheek,
The smoke from the cigarette flew away.