Текст песни Крыс и Шмендра - Дальше

Spread the rumors
On the foggy slopes.
Warriors drowned in moss green.
Where is your squad, Bran?
Fallen in the meadows lowlands far.
And above her, only a raven saddle is sad ...

I would tell you - which of you would dare not to believe? -
As over the Highland wings spread bird Sorrow,
How, in a hurry in the hot fight of offense and pride to measure,
Hot flesh and cold steel again fought.

I would tell you how not to obey more orders,
How, almost knocking down the boots of his holy father,
A herd with iron heads, after waiting a convenient hour,
Fallen in a crowd - four by one on the brave.

On the chest of my rocks, becoming three hundred years older,
I leave the sadness alive ...
Further, further, further ...
    Further, further, further! ..

I would tell you how we were cut in a dirty brew,
Only hands that cover more softly the mouth.
I am calm only because my son will carry the banner of Brana,
My memory of the future is like a tear.

I would tell you, but only an echo will reach you,
The voice will become the mystery of the water and the basalt slabs,
So what is the island in the heart of Loch Thea
Rejoicing and crying, the bagpipe lingering hums? ..

On the chest of my rocks, becoming three hundred years older,
I leave the sadness alive ... Alive! ..
Further, further, further ...
    Further, further, further! ..
        Further, further, further! ..
            Further, further, further! ..