Александр Войнаровский - Блик
текст песни

Branches
Like thin fingers
My windows concern
In them
Everything is reflected
And my face
Like a glare
Unsuccessfully sliding
To the frame that could be better

I go into this river
With a restless course,
Rays are torn through the gaps
Heavenly bleeding,
You and I are like trees
On different sides
This violent river,
Her shores are so far away.

Light
Makes in the windows,
It breaks through the glass
But here
Too dark
And a little alone,
In the darkness
Among troubles and bad things
There is no more place happiness.

There,
Where are the oceans of the bottoms,
Where the storms are born,
There
On the pages of Tom
Funded stories
We
Under the arch of the rainbow
We go with you by the hand