Текст песни Игорь Сидорчик - Виктор Лихачёв - 57 Ангелы уходят не прощаясь

Galina Berakova

Bells
I.
Song
Burned eyebrows
Split braids
And on a motley skirt
Maki beatflowers.
Good to go to me
So, prolonged,
To the far village
Melting in dust.
In the riverma of Mogla
I wash my feet
And with a shorter long
I look at the fry.
Trail trails,
Dusty expensive
Will lead in the evening
In a quiet drop.
What the village is
At the dawn will give?
What will be the evening
Is this famous?
... Slap the subsidence,
... Clear Komarik.
Maybe the bell tick
Even shutter.

***
Skranched the crazy flooring -
I have never creaked before.
He entered and asked to get drunk.
Tasty Water was with us.

I brought him a full bucket
From the bucket covered in the corner.
Shugged with the coat of films,
Invited to our table.

Emptyled bucket. She looked with caress.
"Good, hostess, water."
And what did I poured paint?
Previously, never blushed.

I said: "Stay, right.
Won which darkness in the yard.
The bed to you in the room right,
Let's be larger at the dawn. "

But in response, Palestly blonde:
"No, I will go. Dark - yes not trouble ... "
And what did I sprinkle, the fool?
I have never been roaring before.

***
Then, perhaps, I will figure out.
Later. May be. In the meantime -
Our red flight "Ikarus",
Fly to the city learn!

There are white bell tents,
There is a shade carved at the porch.
Flowing cautiously and freely
River on the name of Tver.

And we ask for overnight stay
In the hut is a good man,
And we will kill autumn
Outlet of the trading.

Torch! What is there to bargain?!
Any price we give
For what was twenty again.
Although one night. Although one day.

Behind the walls white Assumptions,
For the room three pics,
For the rustle of the leaves on the steps,
For the celebration of the city of Torzhka ...

.