I could think about it too, looking on the smoke of my pipe.
I could recall you lying and betraying me.
But I thought about nothing, smoking my pipe.
When we would be on war, I'll ride my horse ahead to meet the bullet.
It's only death bullet I'm waiting for, It'll kill my sorrow.
(But death don't want me, and again I ride on my horse out of the fire).
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Жаль, "Казачий круг" хрен найдёшь...