Текст песни Марк Котляр - С добрым утром

With good morning, Rostov!
This morning I will meet with you one for one
I returned to you as a son returns to his father
I got out of the car on your dusting station
With good morning, my city, I waited for this meeting

I do not sit in a taxi,
I will go on a garden on foot with a bag of upper
I died somewhere for so long, and today
Having breathing with your air, your moisture hop
With good morning my city, talk to me

You like an old map
Treasure map that is no longer found
Where the dotted line marked all the direction of the path
And stressed exactly those addresses
Where already i will not be like i was never

Your streets of Vienna
And we are your wild blood
I'm certainly not the first
Who disappeared returns again
Only if you knew how many times in the middle of the night
I felt in a dream white fluff of your poplars

You raised me
In rotten dampness of old slaughterhouses good yards
It's you taught me to distinguish friends from enemies
And all that I can, and all the fact that it was
I owe what was born here

Here friends my faces
In prizes in your books
Here I ripped myself a vein fragile forgotten love
Here I'm gone on joy and here I sorry sob
And the guys worst earned forever

With good morning, my city,
This morning I will meet with you one for one
I returned to you as a son returns to his father
Because where would I not go and dear
I always come back to you ....... and then I will return home!