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текст песни

I throw stones into the water
I squint from the sun with a smile,
I notice every day
I collect postcards...
They fill the heart
The smell of spices in the air...
Your languid gaze from under your Panama hat,
A chipped fence from houses,
Palm trees that won't ripen bananas
Favorite of all cities...

And I don't notice
That we have become older and taller...
That the nights are already brighter here,
That the Sun lives here on the roof...
That the mountains embrace us,
That TV is deceiving us,
That the city is covering us,
What the shore covers us...

These patterns on your skin
The noise of the gallery, the silence of the alleys,
The serpentine roads are becoming more and more expensive every day,
The twists of history have become bolder...
They fill the heart
The smell of spices in the air...
Covers with a wing, but paws stretch out,
May the purity of the peaks protect you...
Odessa-mother, Rostov-papa,
Sochi, then, is a sunbathing son...

And I don't notice
That we have become older and taller...
That the nights are already brighter here,
That the Sun lives here on the roof...
That the mountains embrace us,
That TV is deceiving us,
What the City is covering us with
What the shore covers us...