Текст песни Виктор Луферов - Разговор с мамой поздней осенью

Red, blue, blue -
Choose yourself any.

This is our human law,
And not a children's rhymes:
If you choose blue,
Blue did not take, and it is a pity.
However, this restraint.
In such a little different -
Was, but only to fall,
The thread remains in the hands.

What are you, what are you, my mother?
Nothing, my dear heart.
Autumn caulk wounds
How long empty skvorechni,
Cleanly swept our yard -
A blade of grass or a speck of dust.
Somewhere radio sings,
As traded on the market.

In the way we will soon be invited to
Along the deserted street.
All understand about heaven and hell:
Life was wonderful and marvelous.
There is only one:
Sing softly to himself ...
More often - in the sky is blue,
At least - under your feet look.

What are you, what are you, my mother?
Change the conversation.
And the spring of hope worth
Overgrown with grass yard.
And then, oh, my mom,
There will be a year ago:
Heal the whole yard with grass,
And starlings wail.

& Lt; 1976 & gt;