Текст песни Виктор Ганч - Горько-пряно

We are not in London, suppose, and not in Vienna - God forbid!
In this Petersburg climate, everything is so windy and disturbing.
I loved you detachedly, like a butterfly - look:
Black-yellow swallows hit the stern Peter.
Somehow parallels to Nabokov are asked. Entomologist?
I left my alleys among your veins .. and the globe
on the table of our glorious daughter suddenly woke up suddenly, came to life,
turned around like buds in March on woody gnarled skin,
spun like a whirlwind flying, turning into the planet itself,
where are the seas and thickets ... We are not together in this world:
I am on Znamenskaya, you are on Furshtatskaya.
Distance is not for a bird -
two minutes of her flight, but this is where this bird nests ...
Reflection is my habit of dissecting life: inside out
man, moth and bird are deprived of trick beauty.
Just finding a pain point, I add a little poison
into the wound, as if on pavement salt to the sleeping Petrograd.