Текст песни Мария Берестова - Осенней сказкою, забытою легендой

Autumn fairy tale, a forgotten legend
Gone and driven away day
Wet book, pale pastel
Your love is left for me

... Your profile by the window, trembling hands! -
Like a stroke of a burnt pen ...
The soul is shattered, the heart is bail
It doesn’t matter: I haven’t forgotten: I don’t need it.

Details with meticulous Tolstoy
I can write with my own hand.
But better - let there be a little:
Cool coffee, my weak voice.

As for the shot through a bullet of singing,
To the blood tearing me apart?
Will never matter
Who you were to me and who I was.

And let you feel and understand: but, you know,
Native to me and you did not become closer.
For some reason, do you expect the feelings of the living?
Not a light bulb: I do not hold the glow.

I don’t dare to remember and love for a long time.
And you are no longer “you”: abstract “he”.
Galatea turned to stone again
When Pygmalion betrayed her.