Текст песни Валентина Толкунова - Ночной скрипач

Composer: Anatoly Stogov
Author of poetry: Vladimir Orlov
 
 
We live cricket in the garden -
This mustachioed old man.
It is the evening, when the moon,
On the fiddle playing me.
 
 
To adjust the strings and bow,
To hang up notes on a limb
And until the morning in the silence of the night
Playing me heartily.
 
 
I slapped him once -
He paused for an hour.
I immediately realized that he
Applause to anything.
 
 
We live cricket in the garden -
This mustachioed old man.
It is the evening, when the moon,
On the fiddle playing me.