Текст песни Борис Гребенщиков - В том подъезде, как в поместье, проживает Черный Кот...

From the yard - entrance known
Under the name & quot; back door & quot ;.
In the entrance, in the estate,
Home to the Black Cat.

He's mustache smile hides,
Darkness him - as a shield.
All cats sing and cry -
This Black Cat is silent.

He did not utter a sound -
Only eats and drinks only.
Dirty floor claws touch
As the heart proskrebet.

He had long catches no mice,
Grins at his mustache,
Catches us on parole,
On a piece of sausage.

It does not require, not asking,
Yellow eyes lit it.
Everyone makes him
And & quot; thank you & quot; is talking.

That is why you know, cheerless,
The house in which we live.
It should be used to hang a light bulb ...
Money is not everything will gather.