Текст песни Вероника Долина - Автопортрет

I ask myself not to beauty - the causes of the hollow:
Soften, the Lord, my features are so cutting.
When I'm in the mirror looking for a little flexible,
I, Lord, I seem a grave protein.
But if I went to that - let my bird,
Then I will not give up the crown of the wing.
Although I believe in love, and it warms,
But then he will shoot down anyone, any will begin.
And again the mirrors are ashamed, and the voice of thin:
"What am I, Lord, is where my Belchonok is gouring?"
But I do not cry, keep quiet, hold on this pain,
Although I fell that it's not gouring for this role.