Текст песни Анна Ахматова - Венок мертвым. 3. Памяти М. А. Булгакова

That's what I do you, instead of burial roses,
Instead of smoking incense;
You are so severely he lived until the end of informed
Perfect contempt.
Do you drink wine, you're like no joke
And I choked in the stifling walls,
And guests terrible you are admitted to himself
And I stayed with her alone.
And there's you, and all around is silent
About mournful and high life
Only my voice like a flute, sound
And your silent funeral feast.
Oh, who dared to believe me loony,
I, mourners days dead,
I, smoldering on a slow fire,
All lost, all has forgotten, -
It is necessary to remember the person who, full of energy,
And the bright ideas and the will,
As if yesterday said to me,
Hiding trembling mortal pain.

1940 Fountain House