Текст песни Варвара Визбор - Где льют дожди

I am writing to you, Volodya, from the Garden Ring,
Where shattered waters pour from the sky.
Everything in the world awaits a legal end
And only the weather does not end.

And yet, slander and lies are endless,
And those to whom the god of talent did not give,
Only in this they affirm their presence,
Trying to bite the giants' feet

What the devil is there in them! About something else ...
"Here is the mill - it has already fallen apart ..."
On Kudrinskaya recently, such a thunder struck,
That all the traffic police secretly crossed themselves.

All the same conversations - how much and what to have.
Out of fashion went "M" named "Boni".
Now no one wants to at least die
Only for the first collection to come out.

Here we gazed at the sky one by one
We'll come together soon
And our voices in a common choir will merge,
And the Milky Way will blow into our backs.

Where are our troubles? Remained small fry
And glory, and the noble anger of someone ...
Gogol will open the stove with a cast-iron poker,
And the light of fire will flash in Fagott's pince-nez ...

While there is enough strength to laugh at the misfortune,
We are more careless than the Eskimos.
As a young Dane once said:
Was, they say, was not - and we'll see.

The world is still as beautiful as a red-haired kid,
All the same, sorry, roses are beautiful.
Hello, Volodya, from the Garden Ring,
Where it rains like tears