Текст песни Пётр Старчик - Флейты греческой

Flutes of Greek Teta and Yota -
As if she was not enough molly -
Uncontanited, without a report,
I ripe, looked, went through the piva.

And it is impossible to leave,
Grieved her teeth not to learn
And in words the language is not promoting
And her lips do not undream.

And the flutist does not recognize peace -
It seems to him that he is one,
That sometime he is native
From the Siren, clay cut off.

Ringwheel in a whisper
Remembering lip whisper
He is in a hurry to be thrifty,
Emlet sounds, tidy and stingy.

Bars for him we will not repeat it,
Key clay in the palms of the sea,
And when I was filled with sea,
By the sea, I became my measure.

And my lips are not my lips,
And murder on the same root.
And involuntarily ascended
Equinox Flute Clone