Текст песни Александр Вертинский - Ваши пальцы пахнут ладаном

Your fingers smell of incense ,
A eyelashes sleeping sorrow .
Nothing Now we do not need ,
No one is now not sorry.

And when spring messenger
You go to the edge of the blue ,
The Lord of white stairs
Will lead you into the bright paradise.

Deacon whispers gray-haired ,
For bow shoots a bow
And sparse beard sweeps
Centuries of dust from the icons.

Your fingers smell of incense ,
A eyelashes sleeping sorrow .
Nothing Now we do not need ,
No one is now not sorry.

A. Vertinsky 1916