Текст песни Песня на продажу - В РУКЕ СМЫЧОК

In his hand the bow - is now gone autumn,
Shall be dark gold and maples, and oaks,
Shut down the wind the sound of the bolt,
And not a single soul will ask for time.

It will sound in a moment,
The air will flow vibrantly clear,
Warm melt the ice at the bottom of the well
And a bird will fly in the sky.

It can all be trusted to give everything -
Doubts, worries and hopes;
She does not look at the face on clothes,
Offend not capable and dedicated.

Tear whether rain, or maybe just dust ...
Around the fog I go, carrying coins.
Oblivion dispersed ... But where are you? -
Neither the music nor the violin at the crowd ...

Lyrics: I.Lisovskaya
Music: T. Rysmaganbetov