Текст песни Виктор Третьяков - Осенний романс

When the clock has struck twelve times
I light candles in a cramped cell.
And I burn out together with the candles,
Melted into heavenly harmony.

And the music is like a delusion
It flows down into my hands ...
This is the mystery of birth,
And angels flock to the sounds.

The night is outside the window, but you are with me,
And the music is kept by your warmth,
And I dare not lie even with a glance,
Because the soul is so easily vulnerable.

After all, Love, like a burning candle,
The same pliable pulp.
And we are sad about the leaving life,
That, really, it's time for the angels to cry.

The clock will strike and sum up
But the music is played like a battle.
And now it falls under our feet
The last autumn prayer.

Such sadness only at this time of the year:
It is not in vain that the Lord chooses moments ...
And nature dies in the fall,
But ... how beautifully she dies!