Текст песни Александр Фролов - Небо с потолка

[Music - Alexander Frolov, text - Arkady Semenov]

As the fleet, not knowing berth
Or pollen,
You wander on the heels of the beginning
In the ears of the deaf stranger.

You, as the span of the bridge on the pile
Or light in the attic,
Shimmering, commanding me,
And flying geese in hand.

For the heart is no other region,
As there is no other language,
Where in the house, the door is not unlocked,
The sky comes from the ceiling.

At any time of day or night
I get up, raised you,
Although there is no way for you shorter
Than wormwood in St. John's Wort.

For the heart is no other region,
As there is no other language,
Where in the house, the door is not unlocked,
Sky comes from the ceiling ...