Александр Новиков Я не бывал в Монако 2008 - Цветочки
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Александр Новиков Я не бывал в Монако 2008 - Цветочки - оригинальный текст песни, перевод, видео
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Она цветочки продавала –
Простые радости земли.
А жизнь моя была – букет из серых дней.
Тянуло, как из поддувала
Меня на подвиги мои,
И повстречались как-то раз глазами с ней.
В душе шипели будто кобры
Денечки прежние мои,
Я покупал ее цветы и говорил,
Что я в душе разбойник добрый,
И что течет в моей крови
Огонь красивей тех цветов, что подарил.
Ах, эта жизнь – как книга с полки,
В которой вырваны всегда
Страницы глупостей больших и темных дел.
Их не выводят, как наколки
И не теряют, как года,
И как по-новой не пиши – слова не те.
Я говорил ей это с чувством,
Хоть по долгам не заплатил,
Что жизнь выходит напрямки, и – хорошо.
И только дождь урчал о грустном,
Когда в него я уходил.
А утром лязгнули замки, и срок пошел.
Я ваше одиночество
Попробую убить,
Мне с вами вечер хочется побыть.
Я отступать бессилен,
Пойдемте обнявшись –
Букета нет красивее, чем жизнь.
She sold flowers -
Simple joys of the Earth.
And my life was a bouquet of gray days.
Pulled like a blow
Me on my exploits,
And once we met with her eyes with her.
Cobras hissed in the shirt
My former cash,
I bought her flowers and said
That I'm in my soul a good robber,
And what flows in my blood
The fire is more beautiful than those colors that gave.
Ah, this life is like a book from a shelf,
In which are always torn
Pages of stupid things of large and dark deeds.
They are not taken out, like tattoos
And do not lose, like a year,
And how do not write in a new way-the words are not the same.
I told her this with feeling
At least did not pay for debts,
That life comes out straight, and good.
And only the rain rumbled about the sad,
When I went into it.
And in the morning the locks clanged, and the deadline went.
I am your loneliness
I'll try to kill
I want to stay with you evening.
I am powerless to retreat
Let's go hugging -
The bouquet is not more beautiful than life.
Simple joys of the Earth.
And my life was a bouquet of gray days.
Pulled like a blow
Me on my exploits,
And once we met with her eyes with her.
Cobras hissed in the shirt
My former cash,
I bought her flowers and said
That I'm in my soul a good robber,
And what flows in my blood
The fire is more beautiful than those colors that gave.
Ah, this life is like a book from a shelf,
In which are always torn
Pages of stupid things of large and dark deeds.
They are not taken out, like tattoos
And do not lose, like a year,
And how do not write in a new way-the words are not the same.
I told her this with feeling
At least did not pay for debts,
That life comes out straight, and good.
And only the rain rumbled about the sad,
When I went into it.
And in the morning the locks clanged, and the deadline went.
I am your loneliness
I'll try to kill
I want to stay with you evening.
I am powerless to retreat
Let's go hugging -
The bouquet is not more beautiful than life.