Текст песни муз Ю.Симакин,сл. Н. Рубцов, - Элегия. А. Асадуллин

Elegy

I knocked on my pocket - I do not ring!
He knocked differently - do not hear!
In a quiet, mysterious zenith
Fly thoughts resting.

But woke up and go out for the threshold,
And go to the wind, at the slope
About the sadness of the covered roads
Slays out hair residues.

Memory gets off from hands.
Youth leaves from under the feet.
Sun describes a circle -
Life counts time.

Knockna for pocket - does not ring!
Knock on another - do not hear!
If I just be famous
That will go to Yalta resting ...