Текст песни Гладков Григорий - Душа

What we call the soul
What, like a cloud, air
And glitters in the darkness of the night
Woodly, naughty
Or suddenly, like a plane,
Thinnish stitching pins
Corrects with heights
Our life, making amendments;
Corrects from the height of our life ...

That with a bird along
In blue air flashes,
Does not burn on fire
Under the rain it does not turn
Without which you can't breathe
Neither a fool forgive in the offense;
What we have to return
Dying, in the best form, -
What we have to return, dying ...

This is true, then there is,
For what is not sorry to try
What makes us honor
To be honest.
Really good
Infinitely old-fashioned,
Tuchka, swallow, soul!
I'm tied, you are free.
Tuchka, swallow, soul, you are free ...