The wind was dying in the window, and the children sobbed the mother's wet outside, and the wolves sang: "Children of orphans, do not see her mother! And the pages of the grotto, reach you grandparents! Matula will not come back, home thresholds! It's already death, it goes to the gods! "The storm interrupts, ni hail not lightning, but Bard's music, which hit the wolves from the wolves to the left and right, fearing the melody, escaped... hero and lady, do not come back home, Music still flows and sounds change...
The wind was dying in the window, and the children sobbed the mother's wet outside, and the wolves sang: "Children of orphans, do not see her mother! And the pages of the grotto, reach you grandparents! Matula will not come back, home thresholds! It's already death, it goes to the gods! "The storm interrupts, ni hail not lightning, but Bard's music, which hit the wolves from the wolves to the left and right, fearing the melody, escaped... hero and lady, do not come back home, Music still flows and sounds change...
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