Понедельник, 23.10.2017
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Harvest Holiday in the Palace of Labor (BG)
 
How much we didn't sing – anyway that were silent,
Therefore, our holy water became dead.
Wheels of sadness drove through along us –
And here we walk at Harvest Holiday in the Palace of Labor.
 
Time to evade; but how to evade?
To go off from this zone – tear out inside oneself wires.
And Rose of timber industry enterprise and Mary is bird under crown marriage
Are ready to give up all that is, for a ticket
At Harvest Holiday in the Palace of Labor.
 
We know that the machine is completely faulty.
We know that here there is no road and there was never.
Close your eyes not to see a faun that slinks on the field,
Star that broke away from the sky, knocks on the door –
Harvest Holiday in the Palace of Labor.
 
Red lacquer, the black soot,
In the ancient ruins, the trains are severed in the trash.
Canvases of Hermitage are underfoot of passers,
Conductor absolutely is deaf –
Harvest Holiday in the Palace of Labor.
 
How much we didn't sing – anyway that were silent,
Therefore, our holy water became dead.
And the starry night I'll be waiting on the berth,
We're in the very beginning – Harvest Holiday in the Palace of Labor.


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