Текст песни
You may have heard the stories of the Russian home and table
Warm kitchens in the winter and the scent that fills the air
Today I’ll show you something simple something honest something real
One of the dishes we hold close to the heart
The one we call borscht
We choose the freshest beef the kind that holds the bone
Brisket or the rib-side where the hearty flavors grow
Rinse it in the cold stream place it gently in the pot
Half an onion carrot bay leaves oh we give it all we've got
Dill stems laying softly roots of parsley join the show
Let the fragrance rise and wander where the Sunday kitchens glow
Steaming cup of crimson fire on a quiet winter day
All the kitchen filled with laughter all the cold is kept away
Take a breath — the world grows softer as the table gathers close
This is borscht a taste of comfort where the heart remembers most
Fill the pot with water let it shimmer let it steam
Slowly boil for hours like an old familiar dream
Check it with a fork — if it yields without a fight
Then the broth is ready deep and golden warm and bright
Now we peel the beetroot rinse it clean and grate it fine
It’s the heart of all the color in this ruby sacred sign
Steaming cup of crimson fire on a quiet winter day
All the kitchen filled with laughter all the cold is kept away
Take a breath — the world grows softer as the table gathers close
This is borscht a taste of comfort where the heart remembers most
In a pan we warm the oil let the beet begin to sing
Three to four soft minutes stir it gently — it's a thing
Add a ladle of that broth let the scarlet start to bloom
Pour a touch of apple vinegar a kiss of sugar in the room
Cover slow and let it mellow ten to fifteen low and sweet
Till the beet turns velvet tender like a secret meant to keep
Steaming cup of crimson fire on a quiet winter day
All the kitchen filled with laughter all the cold is kept away
Take a breath — the world grows softer as the table gathers close
This is borscht a taste of comfort where the heart remembers most
Onion cubes and carrot batons meet the skillet warm again
Twenty more of oil humming low like summer rain
Tomatoes grated skins forgotten only sun remains inside
Stir them with the softened veggies let their colors coincide
Cover slow and let them simmer patience glowing in the air
Fifteen minutes gentle stirring — kitchen love beyond compare
Steaming cup of crimson fire on a quiet winter day
All the kitchen filled with laughter all the cold is kept away
Take a breath — the world grows softer as the table gathers close
This is borscht a taste of comfort where the heart remembers most
Take the meat and let it cool while the broth runs clear and bright
Back into the pot it flows like a river dressed in light
Peel the potatoes cut them small let them join and softly spin
Cabbage sliced in silver ribbons slowly folding in
Bring to boil then keep it tender — four to five just calm and slow
Like a winter tale unfolding in a quiet gentle glow
Steaming cup of crimson fire on a quiet winter day
All the kitchen filled with laughter all the cold is kept away
Take a breath — the world grows softer as the table gathers close
This is borscht a taste of comfort where the heart remembers most
In the pot now go the veggies — all the golden sautéed rain
Then the beet returns to join them deep as memory bright as flame
Carve the beef in tender pieces let it settle warm and near
Salt and pepper to remind us life is simple when it's clear
Let it simmer let it settle let the flavors speak and blend
This is patience this is comfort this is meal and time and friend
Steaming cup of crimson fire on a quiet winter day
All the kitchen filled with laughter all the cold is kept away
Take a breath — the world grows softer as the table gathers close
This is borscht a taste of comfort where the heart remembers most
Chop the dill to summer whispers stir in half and let it rest
Ten more minutes just to gather all the warmth within its chest
Now the lard and garlic mingle pounded soft to velvet cream
With the dill it turns to perfume — oh a countryside daydream
In the bowl we pour the borscht add a spoon of that delight
Serve with sour cream beside it — and the world is warm tonight
Steaming cup of crimson fire on a quiet winter day
All the kitchen filled with laughter all the cold is kept away
Take a breath — the world grows softer as the table gathers close
This is borscht a taste of comfort where the heart remembers most
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