Текст песни OLai - Байкал

Я с детства мечтал о Байкале,
И вот — я увидел Байкал
Мы плыли, и гребни мелькали,
И кедры смотрели со скал

Я множество разных историй
И песен тогда вспоминал
Про это озёрное море,
Про этот священный Байкал

От пристани к пристани плыли
Был вечер Был холод Был май
Был поезд, — и мы укатили
В том поезде в синий Китай

Как часто душа иссякала
В желанье вернуться опять
Я так и не знаю Байкала
Увидеть — не значит узнать

Я с детства мечтал о Байкале,
И вот — я увидел Байкал
Мы плыли, и гребни мелькали,
И кедры смотрели со скал

Я множество разных историй
И песен тогда вспоминал
Про это озёрное море,
Про этот священный Байкал

От пристани к пристани плыли
Был вечер Был холод Был май
Был поезд, — и мы укатили
В том поезде в синий Китай

Как часто душа иссякала
В желанье вернуться опять
Я так и не знаю Байкала
Увидеть — не значит узнать

From childhood, I dreamed of Baikal,
And now, I behold Baikal's sight
We rowed, and the oars flashed by,
The cedars gazed from rocky heights

I recalled countless tales and songs
Of this lake's sacred, mystic stories
The stories whispered secrets old
Of Baikal's depths, where legends unfold

From pier to pier we drifted by,
Evening fell, with chill in May's sigh
A train awaited, carrying me away
To the blue expanse of China's mystic sway

How often my soul yearned to return,
To relive the moments I had learned
But alas, I know Baikal not at all
To see is not to truly know its call

I've dreamed of Baikal since childhood,
And then I saw Baikal
We sailed, and the ridges flashed,
And the cedars looked down from the cliffs

I recalled many different stories
And songs then
About this sea of ​​lakes,
About this sacred Baikal

We sailed from pier to pier
It was evening, It was cold, It was May
There was a train, and we rode off
On that train to blue China

How often my soul has dried up
In the desire to return again
I still don't know Baikal
Seeing is not the same as knowing

I've dreamed of Baikal since childhood,
And then I saw Baikal
We sailed, and the ridges flashed,
And the cedars looked down from the cliffs

I recalled many different stories
And songs then
About this sea of ​​lakes,
About this sacred Baikal

We sailed from pier to pier
It was evening, It was cold, It was May
It was train - and we drove off
On that train to blue China

How often has the soul dried up
The desire to come back again
I still don’t know Baikal
Seeing does not mean knowing

From childhood, I dreamed of Baikal,
And now, I behold Baikal's sight
We rowed, and the oars flashed by,
The cedars gazed from rocky heights

I mentioned countless tales and songs
Of this lake's sacred, mystic stories
The stories whispered secrets old
Of Baikal's depths, where legends unfold

From pier to pier we drifted by,
Evening fell, with chill in May's sigh
A train awaited, carrying me away
To the blue expansion of China's mystic sway

How often my soul yearned to return,
To relive the moments I had learned
But alas, I know Baikal not at all
To see is not to truly know its call