Текст песни Владимир Скобцов - Зонги к Мастеру и Маргарите.Посвящение М.Булгакову.

In the eyes squinting from a cigarette,
Look fixed, in what distance?
Not as much as you got here
How survived is the question.

That unprecedentedly hot May
The sun was melting sunset
And Annushka bought butter,
And he brought a working tram ...

Under your door until morning
Some schwonder is breathing in a crack.
And in the morning will write an article
The same schwonder from the pen.

By morning - a burnt candle
By morning - pain syndromes,
And fatal eggs ripen
In the wet mind of a snitch.

Moliere, he also vegetated ...
The steps on the stairs are getting closer.
And you are in Moscow, not in Paris,
And here others rule the ball.

Already flies towards the end of the novel
And horses rush over Moscow.
Where the house with the river awaits you
And the smell of eternity smells.