Текст песни Борис Бирман - Ах, гостиница моя

Oh, my hotel, ah, hotel!
On the bed, I will - you will move
Curtain eyelashes curtain ...
At least for an hour you are bridegroom - you are a bride.

Indian summer, so be, will not be offended,
Everyone is rather forgotten with whom you do not see.
Played in the veins blood horse Troyansky,
We translate love from Italian.

Slaps the words fog, and in the eyes of reproach,
Mandatory deception is a smart conversation.
The heart is lying: "I love, love!" - on hysterics,
Unable to ship without America.

Nothing with you will not work.
How do you like to suffer blue flour!
See, I stand barefoot before eternity,
So why mow obliquely humanity?

Corridian steps - an evil threat,
It was the sky blue - it became pink ...
And I sit on the edge and never moved ...
Oh, my hotel, ah, hotel!