Crys-T - Сильные люди
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Crys-T - Сильные люди - оригинальный текст песни, перевод, видео
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Гляди.. вон на той стороне дороги.
старуха Ноги едва передвигает,
и вроде, сама уже давно на пороге,
Но что-то держит ее... не отпускает.
С виду слабая, такая старая,
Плечи сутулые, вечно усталая.
Дряхлое Пальто, выцветшая шапка
По асфальту подошвы шагами шаркают...
Холодно ли, жарко ли, по улицам шумным
В глазах слезы и тяжкие думы.
Куда-то суму нелегкие тащит,
Остановится, вздохнет и шагает дальше.
Вспомни, Ты и раньше видал ее часто
Но будто бы не замечал, когда встречался.
Да м живет где-то тут она по-соседству.
И ходит осколько помнишь себя - с самого детства...
А дома у нее сын, прикованный к кровати,
Он у нее один, и у него, кроме матери
Нет никого и не будет впредь.
Ей нельзя стать слабой или умереть.
Я знаю людей сильных, готовых биться
Один против мира. И дело тут не в биципсах.
Не ради принципов, денег или славы,
Просто им и на день, нельзя стать слабыми.
В переходе метро, с кружкой жестяной.
Старик седой, прижавшись спиной к стене.
Стоит, Рукой трет пряжку со звездой
На кожаном растрескавшемся ремне.
Непрерывным потоком текут люди,
Кто-то бросит банкноту, кто-то осудит.
Пристыдит, скорчит недовольную мину.
А старик стоит и молча смотрит мимо.
Гардероб его давно не видал обновок.
Зато осанка все еще как у молодого.
И время никогда не согнет спину,
Одного из солдат, дошедших до Берлина.
У людей заботы, у людей веселье,
А старик пропадет на субботу-воскресенье.
Но вернется, как на пост спустя два дня,
И снова эхом монеты зазвенят.
Все ушли, а его тут будто держат цепи.
В субботу на кладбище, в воскресенье в церкви.
Ставит свечи, вспоминает годы.
И тихо молится за нас - идущих по переходу.
Я знаю людей сильных, готовых биться
Один против мира. И дело тут не в биципсах.
Не ради принципов, денег или славы,
Просто им и на день, нельзя стать слабыми.
Look .. over the other side of the road.
The old woman barely moves his legs,
And it seems, herself has long been on the threshold,
But something holds her ... does not let her go.
It looks weak, so old,
The shoulders are stooped, forever tired.
Sweet coat, faded hat
On the asphalt of the sole they shuffle with steps ...
Is it cold, hotly, the streets noisy
Tears and heavy thoughts are in the eyes.
Somewhere a little bag is dragging,
He will stop, sigh and steps on.
Remember, you have often seen it before
But as if he did not notice when he met.
Yes, it lives somewhere here in the neighborhood.
And walks fragmented, you remember yourself - from childhood ...
And at home she has a son, chained to the bed,
He is alone, and he has, except for his mother
There is no one and will not be.
She cannot become weak or die.
I know people of strong, ready to fight
One against the world. And the point here is not in the bicips.
Not for the sake of principles, money or glory,
It’s just for them for a day, you can’t become weak.
In the transition of the metro, with a mug of tin.
The old gray -haired man, pressing his back against the wall.
Standing, with a hand, rubbing a buckle with a star
On a leather cracked belt.
People flow in a continuous stream
Someone will drop a banknote, someone will condemn.
He will shake, brings up a dissatisfied mine.
And the old man is standing and silently looks past.
The wardrobe for a long time had not seen alternations.
But the posture is still like a young one.
And time will never bent his back,
One of the soldiers who reached Berlin.
People have care, people have fun,
And the old man will disappear on Saturday-Sunday.
But he will return, as a post after two days,
And again, the coins echo will call.
Everyone left, and here it was as if they are holding chains.
On Saturday in the cemetery, on Sunday in the church.
He puts candles, recalls years.
And he quietly prays for us - walking at the crossing.
I know people of strong, ready to fight
One against the world. And the point here is not in the bicips.
Not for the sake of principles, money or glory,
It’s just for them for a day, you can’t become weak.
The old woman barely moves his legs,
And it seems, herself has long been on the threshold,
But something holds her ... does not let her go.
It looks weak, so old,
The shoulders are stooped, forever tired.
Sweet coat, faded hat
On the asphalt of the sole they shuffle with steps ...
Is it cold, hotly, the streets noisy
Tears and heavy thoughts are in the eyes.
Somewhere a little bag is dragging,
He will stop, sigh and steps on.
Remember, you have often seen it before
But as if he did not notice when he met.
Yes, it lives somewhere here in the neighborhood.
And walks fragmented, you remember yourself - from childhood ...
And at home she has a son, chained to the bed,
He is alone, and he has, except for his mother
There is no one and will not be.
She cannot become weak or die.
I know people of strong, ready to fight
One against the world. And the point here is not in the bicips.
Not for the sake of principles, money or glory,
It’s just for them for a day, you can’t become weak.
In the transition of the metro, with a mug of tin.
The old gray -haired man, pressing his back against the wall.
Standing, with a hand, rubbing a buckle with a star
On a leather cracked belt.
People flow in a continuous stream
Someone will drop a banknote, someone will condemn.
He will shake, brings up a dissatisfied mine.
And the old man is standing and silently looks past.
The wardrobe for a long time had not seen alternations.
But the posture is still like a young one.
And time will never bent his back,
One of the soldiers who reached Berlin.
People have care, people have fun,
And the old man will disappear on Saturday-Sunday.
But he will return, as a post after two days,
And again, the coins echo will call.
Everyone left, and here it was as if they are holding chains.
On Saturday in the cemetery, on Sunday in the church.
He puts candles, recalls years.
And he quietly prays for us - walking at the crossing.
I know people of strong, ready to fight
One against the world. And the point here is not in the bicips.
Not for the sake of principles, money or glory,
It’s just for them for a day, you can’t become weak.
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