Слова:
Darkestrah The Great Silk Road

The pain burns in my consciousness By a fresh disturbed wound: Why is your shape, Khan Tengri, Bewitched by a gloomy fog? Seeing your silhouette torn

Ashes will scatter on earth as a necklace, beginning of night. Scars stare at us from the sky. The mirror of lake water will give us the way, The sublimity

hills and dark grey, almost black silhouettes of the Altay mountains. White stains of the nomad's urtahs. The shepherd incredibly chooses the right grey roads