Текст песни Анатоль Ярмоленко - Постоялый двор

There was winter, chalk blizzard,
Slept the courtyard is the island of salvation.
Mistress at home without constraint
Stew white bed.
Good night wishing.
She did not hurry to part,
And, if it will be, - so decided
Who gives happiness - that's right!

Chorus:

Oh, this innovation yard -
The fate of visiting musicians.
Success, fans of talent,
And at night a quiet conversation,
And the light of the moon between the dark curtains
And semi-windows in the ukrizne ...
Ah, this innovation courtyard, the inn
The impermanence of our life.

Outlook Sad eyes
And the Heap of the Criminal Batista,
On the pocket of the poor artist
Fell a timid tear.
The oven was treated, Fire cracked,
And the blizzard howled Grozno,
And in the winter air frost
Frozen bitter "Goodbye!"