Текст песни Леонид Филатов - В пятнадцать лет, продутый на ветру ...

At fifteen, blown in the wind
Newspaper and comradely opinions,
I thought: "Turn out that I am not a genius -
I will die from horror at the same moment! .. "

Sitting down at the table, I felt in myself
Holy reckless courage
And I stained the paper with ink
As if defeating her in a fight!

When fate struck thirty-seven.
And the inglorious thirty-eight dawned,
I thought it was a tragic autumn
It puts a shadow on my forehead.

But definitely a summons to court or social security,
A yellow autumn leaf pressed against the glass,
And I read on the letterhead: "You are not a genius!" -
A short message from heaven.

I looked out the window - well, you can't,
So that at this hour, so that at this moment of leaving
The weather has not deteriorated at all,
The landscape has not changed at all!

Everything was the same. A puddle on the porch.
The familiar outline of the trash can.
And a dog was writing by the fence
With a shy smile on her face.

Staring blankly out the window
Familiar pigeon, important and cutesy.
And life has not ceased to be desired
From my terrible insight ...