Текст песни P.Stanevsky - Paolto Dari

I am here to take, put on at a time,
broke through the strings. Would you believe?
Sweetheart, O sancta simplicitas
Do not you feel sorry for them.
Not really the world, so surreptitiously,
Secret as lip bite.
Like Kafka, insect
My Huss:
I do not burn with fire.
Fire? I do not add firewood
Do not throw in. In him
And there is a drop of heat, for the Blue,
Not that the burning.
Not that the burning of your soul.
As Mahler in Bohemia,
Symphony hush, hush, not an hour.
The heat of your hands, (so greesh)
Sweetheart, O sancta simplicitas
Do not you feel sorry for them.
What a wonderful situation
The Spirits in Neapolitan
Chord!
The image of your face
Warm your hand.
Warm hands,
yours.
Heat.