at the very hour of giving the roof of the town and our vanity, we stopped at the danilevichy lelchytsklet me tell you the legend of the great stone dzevachka: neyak pile dzyaltsy sting zhyta zhanchyna and i am a twelve-year-old dacha, eva. the darkness of the sky was covered with dark gloom, the mother began to prosper at the dacha, as the worst sklascі ўўs all lived in the cops, the red grew old and grew adversarial. then the ruffled woman cried out: “if only you had become a stone.” kali bura died, the cabbage took away not her dacha, but a stone, like a reminder of the figure of the man. the getae are tsudatvorny stone vyaskovtsy. as it seems among the people, our legs are still alive, and we are not sleepy in our wake, we are moving forward. hell of minsk warta drive 314 km, if you go to the pasalnichah pinskaya district. and the fact that geta tago saprauda varta, mozhatse me paveryts. we all know what the knots want in our kuferku, but first of all we need to add the right thing to you, who is charming over the folk song, and here, i guess, the hibernating tsina shchasnaya, to th