Текст песни Булат Окуджава - Музыкант

Musician playing the violin,
I looked him in the eye,
I'm not, so curious,
I flew across the sky,
I'm not that out of boredom,
I was hoping to see
How to know how these hands
removing these sounds.

From some pieces of wood,
from some rough living,
From some kind of fantasy,
which he served.
Yes, because it is necessary in the soul
for us to penetrate and ignite.
Why stand on ceremony with her,
which it protect?

Happy is the house where the violin singing
It instructs us on the road,
And it gives us hope,
the rest - somehow.
Happy tool pressed
to the angular shoulders,
By whose blessing
I'm flying across the sky.

Happy is the one whose age is not long,
angry fingers, sharp bow -
Musician, he built
from my soul the fire.
And the soul, that's for sure,
if burned,
Just, merciful
righteous and it is.