Текст песни Михаил Федоренко - Она

Her voice like a break of a guide thread
Hair is wound and sit down like Siren's songs.
Hundreds call her, more often scream: "Swells!".
You close your eyes - she is in the cold veins.

The look of her beats exactly in target through the pass and rags,
Her lips is sweet honey and dustless sleep.
In Mount, she is alone, and in statistics - hundreds:
There is no name in it - there are millions of names.

Whether you are in the mud il on the throne -
She will not show the tongue.
Her look is simple and calm -
He is not used to failures.

Joy enters the house to the love of lifebam and young,
Nobling stacks on the rollers.
Loves without prejudice and quiet and noisy.
Each is worthy and is equal in her spirits.

She has a slave right to the eternal will,
With her, she feels homelessly his last house.
Pouring with the plaume get used to the role
Serving her glass behind a common table.

1999.