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<poem lang="en"> | <poem lang="en"> | ||
[TBA] | [TBA] | ||
I remember as if I’m watching, my grandmother leads me to church, | |||
Next to me, people are kissing and shouting "Christ is born!" | |||
It’s Christmas, it’s Christmas, the guns are firing, | |||
And grandmother is preparing the Christmas bread, but I’m not there | |||
Old father brings the yule log, I can still see that picture, | |||
Frost is in the hair of the bell ringer on the bell tower | |||
It’s Christmas, it’s Christmas, the guns are firing, | |||
And grandmother is preparing the Christmas bread, but I’m not there | |||
My little fingers are trembling, grandmother leads me to church, | |||
"Come on, son, cross yourself and say 'Christ is born!'" | |||
It’s Christmas, it’s Christmas, the guns are firing, | |||
And grandmother is preparing the Christmas bread, but I’m not there | |||
</poem> | </poem> | ||
|} | |} |
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