Текст песни Илья Чёрт - Служение любви

The ministry of Love
With polished forms
 Moments torture.
Mind mercilessly strict,
 And lean poor food
A look of a proud eagle,
Character bezustaly,
How heart - ice netaly,
So I thought - gray storm.
For avarice to the dreams,
For anger to jubilation,
Lies stubborn temper,
And it is impossible to live,
Live the joy of fellowship,
The possibility of forgiveness,
Errors from the heart,
Desire to love.
To love and to be loved,
And waking up in the morning,
See with embarrassment,
Someone else's hair strand.
And rejoice in the door,
Without latch and bolt,
And the happiness that was found
The answer to your question,
That point is not austerity,
Not in the wisdom of scientists,
Not in the finger that threatens us
From time immemorial.
In one that fills up
Now in your bed,
And to the question: "What's your name then?"
Answer: "I - love!"